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VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 


THE  OPEN  COUNTRY  BOOKS 


A  Company  of  Genial  Little  Books  about  the 
Out-of-Doors 

Under  the  Editorship  of 

L.  H.  BAILEY 

1.  The  Apple-Tree    .      .      .     .    L.  H.  Bailey 

2.  A  Home  Vegetable-Garden     .     .     . 

Ella  M.  Freeman 

3.  The  Cow    .     .     .    Jared  van  Wagenen,  Jr. 

4.  Vacation  on  the  Trail.  Eugene  Davenport 


The  Open  Country  Books — No.  4 


VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

Personal  experiences  in  the  higher  mountain 
trails  with  complete  directions  for  the  out- 
fitting of  inexpensive  expeditions 


BY 

EUGENE  DAVENPORT,  LL.D. 

DEAN   AND   PROFESSOR   EMERITUS 
C»LLEGE    OF    AGRICULTURE 
UNIVERSITY      OF      ILUNOIS 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
1923 

AH  rights  reserved 


PRINTED    IN    THE    UNITED   STATES  OF    AMERICA 


Copyright,  1923, 
By  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Publiihed  March,  1923. 


Press  of 

J.  J.  Little  &  Ives  Company 

New  York,  U.   S.  A, 


DEDICATION 

To  my  various  companions  of  the  many  trails — the 
wife  who  managed  the  commissariat  and  was  equal  to 
every  emergency;  the  daughter  who  grew  up  with  the 
mountains  and  carried  the  artillery;  the  knight  of  her 
choice,  H.  B.  Tukey,  who  came  in  due  time  and  proved 
a  worthy  initiate;  Dr.  Elmer  Roberts,  prince  of  good 
fellows,  who  taught  me  the  diamond  hitch  and  whose 
genial  good  humor  enlivened  many  a  camp  fire ;  the  wife 
of  his  choosing  who  took  to  the  trail  like  an  old-timer ; 
the  extra  member  of  the  family  from  across  the  seas; 
and  last  of  all,  even  the  burros,  good,  bad,  and  indiffer- 
ent,— to  so  goodly  and  varied  a  company  is  this  little 
volume  of   experiences  and  information   affectionately 

dedicated. 

The  AuTHoa 


PREFACE 

Frankly  the  following  pages  are  written  in  the  hope 
of  interesting  the  thousands  of  men  and  women  who  go 
summering  every  year  in  search  of  that  which  will  re- 
lieve from  the  strain  of  office,  study,  or  classroom  and 
send  them  back  refreshed  for  the  labors  of  another  year. 
The  aim  is  to  point  out  a  more  excellent  way  than  has 
yet  been  discovered  by  the  vast  majority  who  perforce 
follow  the  crowd  to  the  popular  ''resort"  or  at  best  join 
an  excursion  and  "do"  half  a  continent  in  thirty  days. 

What  the  worn-out  teacher,  clerk,  or  executive  needs 
is  not  rest  but  change;  not  inactivity  which  dulls  the 
physical  powers  but  action  which  stimulates;  not  mental 
excitement,  of  which  he  has  had  too  much,  but  simple 
surroundings  under  his  personal  control.  He  needs  some- 
thing that  will  set  his  idle  body  at  work  and  stir  up  his 
sluggish  processes,  especially  those  of  elimination ;  and 
yet  that  something  must  be  so  filled  with  daily  details 
as  effectually  to  prevent  the  mind  from  slipping  back  into 
its  old  ruts  to  go  wool-gathering  after  the  deep  things  of 
life.  In  short,  the  man  or  woman  seeking  recuperation 
needs  to  reverse  the  daily  grind  and  live  a  life  of  active, 
though  not  exhaustive,  physical  existence  with  enough 
of  variety  to  keep  the  mind  interested  but  not  really  em- 
ployed. So  shall  the  tired  vacationist  go  back  to  his  work 
re-created  and  virtually  a  new  man  in  body,  mind,  and 
spirit. 

The  conditions  necessary  to  this  kind  of  vacation  may 

vii 


viii  PREFACE 

be  found  in  a  great  variety  of  places, — in  the  Adiron- 
dacks,  in  the  Alleghanies,  in  the  Canadian  woods,  in  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  in  the  Coast  Range,  or  wherever  the 
country  is  wild  enough  to  make  walking  interesting  and 
the  population  is  scanty  enough  to  give  the  effect  of  liv- 
ing with  nature  rather  than  with  man. 

The  outfit  may  be  carried  on  the  back,  and  the  novice 
is  likely  to  attempt  this  mode  of  transportation.  But  I 
have  personal  objections  to  making  a  pack  horse  of  my- 
self even  under  the  guise  of  vacation,  having  seen  some 
distressing  results  of  this  attempt.  Besides,  an  outfit 
that  can  be  so  transported  is  too  meager  for  comfort  and 
comfort  is  one  of  the  prerequisites  of  vacation.  It  is 
equally  important  not  to  take  so  much  as  to  be  burdened 
with  property  that  must  be  handled  every  day.  An  ade- 
quate outfit  can  be  carried  in  a  one-horse  cart  or  a  two- 
horse  light  wagon,  depending  on  the  size  of  the  party; 
or  it  can  be  packed  on  horses  or  mules  or  burros,  which 
latter  is  the  approved  and  altogether  desirable  method  of 
transportation  of  grub  and  tents  and  duffle. 

The  enterprise  may  be  conducted  from  a  more  or  less 
permanent  site  with  side  excursions  from  time  to  time, 
or  camp  may  be  broken  every  day,  in  which  latter  case 
the  theory  is  that  one  lives  on  the  trail,  stopping  for 
rest  or  exploration  wherever  night  overtakes  or  inclina- 
tion dictates. 

The  objective  may  be  hunting  or  fishing  or  collecting 
or  simply  wandering.  My  own  preference  is  distinctly 
for  the  latter  with  an  objective  that  seeks  always  to  see 
what  lies  just  over  the  ridge  or  beyond  the  pass  or  at 
the  end  of  the  trail.  This  means  the  very  heart  of  the 
higher  and  wilder  mountain  districts  where  all  our  trips 


PREFACE 


IX 


have  been  taken,  and  it  means  an  entirely  self-sufficing 
outfit  packed  upon  burros. 

After  a  goodly  number  of  experiments,  the  author  and 
his  family  have  settled  down  to  the  kind  of  vacation  life 
herein  described,  in  which  the  daily  tramp  wdth  its  re- 
sultant appetite  both  for  food  and  water  are  relied  upon 
for  physical  rejuvenation,  the  events  of  the  trail  are  suf- 
ficient to  keep  the  mind  fully  occupied  with  new  and  fresh 
material,  and  an  ever-changing  panorama  of  the  best 
available  scenery  serves  as  a  never-ending  inspiration  to 
the  soul. 

In  its  physical  effects  there  is  no  exercise  like  walking, 
for  it  works  the  whole  body  without  overworking  any 
part  of  it,  if  only  the  feet  are  properly  shod  and  cared 
for.  Nowhere  else  is  there  such  a  succession  of  details 
to  occupy  the  attention  without  mental  strain  as  is  af- 
forded on  the  trail,  and  if  it  should  chance  to  lie  on  the 
upper  levels  of  the  mountains,  there  is  not  to  be  found 
elsewhere  so  vast  an  outlay  of  nature's  best  or  so  chang- 
ing a  display  of  her  mighty  works.  Altogether,  there 
is  nothing  to  be  compared  with  a  vacation  on  the  trail. 

It  is  from  this  standpoint  and  as  the  result  of  the  ex- 
perience of  many  years  that  I  shall  write,  hoping  to  be 
able  so  to  interest  the  reader  as  to  entice  him  to  the 
trail  and  to  specify  so  clearly  the  essentials  that  he  may 
safely  depart  from  the  particular  plan  of  the  writer  suf- 
ficiently to  meet  his  special  conditions  without  sacrificing 
the  fundamentals  of  a  vacation  in  the  open. 

Finally,  in  the  words  of  Samantha,  'Think  of  the 
cheapness  ont",  for  the  food  costs  no  more  than  at  home, 
even  less  than  at  boarding  houses,  and  there  is  no  other 
expense  in  the  walking  trip  save  a  nominal  rent  for  pack 


X  PREFACE 

animals  and  the  cost  of  the  outfit,  which  would  not  be 
great  and  is  borne  but  once. 

Without  further  explanation  or  apology  the  author 
will  undertake  to  depict  what  life  on  the  trail  really  means 
from  day  to  day  and  to  make  clear  its  entire  feasibleness 
even  to  the  tenderfoot.  If  any  apology  were  needed,  it 
Hes  in  the  fact  that  so  few  are  availing  themselves  of 
the  wonderful  possibilities  of  our  many  national  parks, 
the  playgrounds  of  the  people,  set  aside  for  the  very  ser- 
vice of  recuperation. 

Acknowledgment  is  due  to  Booth  and  Roberts  for  the 
illustration  'Torty  Miles  from  Anywhere,"  to  The  Den- 
ver and  Rio  Grande  Railway  for  Mt.  Massive,  to  the 
Great  Northern  for  Plates  IV  and  V,  to  the  Northern 
Pacific  for  Plate  III,  and  to  the  Canadian  Pacific  for 
the  frontispiece. 

E.  Davenport 
University  of  Illinois 
August  1,  1922 


CONTENTS 

PART  I     Living  with  the  Mountains       .  pages  1-59 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     The  Call  of  the  Wild 3 

II.     We  Discover  the  Trail 5 

III.  The    Layout 9 

IV.  Getting  Used  to  the  Mountains    ....  12 
V.    The  Trail 18 

VI.     The  Pass 22 

VII.     Making  Camp 26 

VIII.     The   Camp-Fire 31 

IX.     Breaking  Camp 36 

X.     The   Lay-Over 39 

XI.     The  Mountain  Waters 42 

XII.     The  Timber 46 

XIIL     A  Storm  on  the  Pass 50 

XIV.     The  Deserted  Village 54 

XV.     The  Mountain  Solitudes 58 

xi 


xii  CONTENTS 

PART  II     Outfitting  for  the  Trail     .      pages  61-101 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVI.     Results  of  Experience 63 

XVII.     Food 65 

XVIII.     Clothing 69 

XIX.  Tents  and  Bedding      .....     ...     .  72 

XX.     Cooking  Equipment >      .  76 

XXI.     Accessories 79 

XXII.     Rope  and  Strap  Craft 84 

XXIII.  The  Burro 89 

XXIV.  The  Pack 92 

XXV.     The  Diamond  Hitch 95 

XXVI.  The  Square  Hitch       .......  99 

XXVII.     The  End  of  the  Trail lOi 


Part  I 
LIVING  WITH  THE  MOUNTAINS 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  WILD 

I  will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills, 
From  whence  cometh  my  help. 

Thirty  days  for  the  heart  of  the  Rockies!  What  a 
prospect  for  a  vacation!  Grub  and  tents  and  sleeping- 
bags  packed  safely  upon  a  string  of  burros  that  live  on 
next  to  nothing,  feeding  themselves  as  they  go ;  walking 
togs  with  sturdy  but  easy  boots  warranted  against  water 
up  to  fifteen  inches  deep;  care-free  and  away  from  civi- 
lization with  its  responsibilities,  its  noises,  and  its  smells, 
answering  to  the  call  of  the  wild ! 

Living  alone  w4th  nature  ''forty  miles  from  anywhere," 
eight,  ten,  twelve,  and  thirteen  thousand  feet  above  the 
sea  with  the  tang  of  the  mountains  filling  the  nostrils 
morning,  noon,  and  night  with  the  very  breath  of  Heaven  ! 
Brother  to  the  peaks  and  the  snow  fields  and  the  vast 
amphitheaters  of  green  and  white  and  gray  that  have 
guarded  the  passes  since  the  world  was  young;  friend  to 
the  timber,  the  waters  and  the  wild  flowers;  companion 
to  the  clouds  and  the  shadows  and  the  drifting  mists,  the 
lightnings  and  the  thunders  and  the  storms;  neighbor 
to  the  very  stars  at  night  that  seem  to  beckon  one  to 
step  off  the  edge  and  be  with  them ! 

What  a  privilege,  yet  how  few  have  realized  it  among 

3 


4  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

the  thousands  that  go  summering!  Even  of  the  many 
who  go  to  the  mountain  regions  almost  no  one  goes  into 
the  mountains  where  an  unsuspected  world  would  be  dis- 
covered whence  he  would  bend  eager  steps,  did  he  only 
know  what  lies  along  the  higher  reaches  and  how  easy  it 
is  to  get  there.  Our  little  party  has  lived  it  all,  day  after 
day,  not  once  but  many  times,  until  it  has  become  a  part 
of  our  very  being. 

This  is  the  story  of  how  it  all  happened  and  what  it 
is  like,  told  not  so  much  to  entertain  as  to  entice,  if  pos- 
sible, some  thousands  to  enjoy  what  now  is  almost  unseen 
and  unfelt  by  the  sons  of  man,  even  by  most  of  those  who 
think  they  have  been  to  the  mountains  because  they  have 
ridden  along  the  foothills  in  a  pullman  or  an  automobile 
and  have  seen  the  peaks  some  twenty  or  thirty  or  fifty 
miles  away. 


II 

WE  DISCOVER  THE  TRAIL 

It  all  came  about  in  a  perfectly  natural  way.  The  im- 
pulse lay  heavy  on  us  a  good  number  of  years  ago  to 
try  out  the  mountains  for  vacation  purposes,  and  accom- 
modations \vere  secured  on  a  ranch  well  up  an  almost  inac- 
cessible canyon  in  the  very  heart  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

''Ranch''  is  western  for  farm,  whether  large  or  small. 
Accordingly  our  meals  were  taken  at  the  chuck-house, 
but  lodging  and  quarters  were  provided  in  a  tent  close 
by  a  raging  torrent  that  was  a  never-ending  joy  by  day 
and  a  soothing  lullaby  at  night,  bringing  with  the  chill  of 
the  air  such  slumber  as  only  childhood  knows.  So  did  we 
regain  our  youth  with  what  might  be  called  the  first 
intention. 

It  was  here  in  a  permanent  camp  that  we  learned  the 
life  of  the  out-of-doors  and  two  summers  were  spent 
upon  the  same  spot,  some  seven  thousand  feet  above  the 
sea,  taking  frequent  tramps  up  and  down  the  valley,  lit- 
erally reveling  in  the  ever-changing  experiences  and  fas- 
cinated by  the  majestic  views  over  the  distant  hills. 

In  the  interest  of  variety  we  sought  and  obtained  a 
new  location  in  a  wilder  spot  not  connected  with  a  ranch, 
which  required  that  we  should  provide  our  own  supplies 
from  time  to  time.    Here  we  set  up  a  somewhat  elaborate 

5 


6  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

outfit  of  canvas  and  accessories,  imported  or  improvised, 
and  here  we  took  further  lessons  in  the  delights  of  life  in 
the  open. 

The  permanent  camp,  however  successful,  must  be  lo- 
cated near  a  base  of  supplies  and  this  means  at  or  near 
the  mouth  of  a  valley;  that  is  to  say,  at  the  bottom  of  a 
canyon  and,  therefore,  two  to  four  thousand  feet  below 
the  surrounding  ridges.  The  valley  is  superb  and  the 
slopes  magnificent,  but  the  range  of  tramping  as  limited  to 
the  immediate  neighborhood  is  soon  exhausted.  Besides, 
who  can  resist  day  after  day  the  temptation  to  discover 
what  lies  just  over  the  ridge?  And  so  it  is  that  the  per- 
manent camper  must  climb  for  most  of  what  he  sees. 

An  early  start  with  a  hard  scramble  up  the  wall  of  the 
canyon  hour  after  hour  brings  one  eventually  to  the  top 
to  stand  entranced  at  the  panorama  that  lies  spread  out 
before  him.  On  the  one  hand,  ridge  on  ridge  with  mys- 
terious valleys  between  stretch  away  and  away  as  far  as 
the  eye  can  reach.  On  the  other,  with  marvelous  lights 
and  shadows  lies  an  undulating  valley  surrounded  by 
snow-capped  peaks  and  glittering  in  the  sunlight  like  an 
enchanted  gateway  to  some  abode  of  the  gods,  while  a 
trail  at  one's  very  feet  leads  enticingly  thitherward,  serv- 
ing to  beckon  the  traveler  on  and  on  like  some  spirit  from 
another  world. 

But  it  is  near  night  and  camp  is  far  away  and  after 
a  few  minutes  of  this  magnificent  view,  it  is  a  wrench 
to  turn  the  back  on  it  all  and  scurry  down  the  hill  again 
in  order  to  get  supper  out  of  the  way  before  dark.  And 
how  one's  dreams  are  mixed  and  his  waking  hours  are 
haunted  by  what  lies  all  about  him  but  over  the  ridge  and 
therefore  just  out  of  sight! 


WE  DISCOVER  THE  TRAIL  7 

So  it  was  that  we  came  to  say:  "The  time  shall  come 
when  we  will  never  go  back  but  will  go  on  and  on  in- 
definitely, camping  when  and  where  night  or  inclination 
overtakes."  We  discovered  the  trail  and  found  it  a  vast 
improvement  over  the  permanent  camp,  not  only  for 
scenery  and  variety  of  experience  but  for  comfort  as  well. 
The  occasional  hard  climb  leaves  one  weary  and  lame 
most  of  the  time,  while  the  daily  tramp  of  seven  or  eight 
miles,  even  ten  or  fifteen,  makes  him  always  fit,  and  at 
the  end  of  a  month  he  feels  that  he  has  sojourned  in  the 
very  outskirts  of  paradise  and  is  new-created  for  his  work. 
Nor  does  the  effect  of  it  all  vanish  as  the  days  and  months 
go  by,  but  rather  it  grows  and  intensifies  with  the  passage 
of  time. 

With  apologies  to  my  mountain  friends,  therefore,  I 
will  do  the  best  I  can  to  give  the  general  reader  some  idea 
of  what  it  means  to  live  day  after  day  on  the  trail,  fol- 
lowing its  lead  up  and  up  and  ever  upward  beside  the 
rushing  torrent,  along  the  sloping  shoulders  of  some 
mountain  giant,  through  acres  of  roses  and  columbine, 
paint-brush,  and  monk's-hood,  across  fields  of  melting 
snows,  and  over  the  pass  into  another  valley  with  new 
enchantments  that  bewitch  the  eye  and  uplift  the  spirit 
of  the  traveler. 

July  is  the  favorite  month  in  the  middle  Rockies  be- 
cause then  the  flowers  are  at  their  best,  the  water  is  cold, 
and  the  passes  are  open  or  at  least  passable.  In  June  the 
snow  is  too  abundant  in  the  higher  levels  and  the  flowers 
are  not  yet  out;  while  in  August  the  streams  are  low  and 
the  water  warm;  besides,  an  occasional  snowstorm  may 
be  expected,  and  falling  snow  is  exceedingly  mussy  on 
the  trail.     To  the  north,  in  the  United  States  and  Can- 


8  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

ada,  the  most  favorable  season  is  correspondingly  later 
though  the  altitudes  are  lower. 

The  author  is  convinced  that  more  tired  men  and 
women  would  spend  their  vacations  in  this  bohemian 
fashion  if  only  they  were  aware  of  its  advantages,  if  they 
knew  how  to  outfit  so  as  to  be  comfortable,  and  if  they 
knew  how  to  live  comfortably  day  by  day  in  the  out-of- 
doors,  changing  camp  with  every  rising  sun.  The 
physical  and  psychological  advantages  of  the  trail  are  ob- 
vious for  those  who  like  it,  and  others  of  course  are  not 
interested. 

It  is  the  purpose  of  this  little  volume,  therefore,  to  ac- 
quaint the  reader  who  cares  for  it  with  a  detailed  descrip- 
tion of  life  in  the  open  and  of  the  necessary  outfit.  The 
aim  is  to  do  this  so  thoroughly  and  so  accurately  that  the 
merest  novice  can,  if  he  will  follow  directions,  hit  the 
trail  with  impunity  even  in  the  wildest  regions  of  the 
higher  levels.  To  this  end  the  account  will  be  limited  to 
the  results  of  actual  personal  experience  as  being  more 
convincing  than  any  abstract  treatise,  however  well  it 
might  be  done.  The  reader  will,  therefore,  overlook  the 
personal  element  in  the  interest  of  clearness  and  of 
accuracy. 


Ill 

THE  LAYOUT 

What  to  take  on  the  trail  by  way  of  food,  clothing, 
and  equipment  is  matter  for  separate  consideration.  We 
are  now  concerned  only  with  the  external  features  of  life 
on  the  trail  and  their  influence  on  the  human  body  and 
the  soul,  together  with  their  power  to  exalt  and  to  re-create 
the  best  that  is  in  human  kind. 

The  particular  region  that  may  be  chosen  matters  little, 
for  in  general  all  mountain  systems  consist  of  a  series 
of  more  or  less  parallel  ridges  with  valleys  between,  rising 
more  or  less  abruptly  from  the  plains  to  the  peaks  some 
twenty  or  thirty  miles  away.  Down  these  valleys  and 
across  these  ridges  the  waters  from  the  melting  snows 
have  cut  their  courses  deep  into  the  living  rock,  a  hundred, 
sometimes  a  thousand  feet,  and  in  the  case  of  the  Royal 
Gorge,  a  full  half  mile  in  breaking  the  way  on  their  rest- 
less and  irresistible  rush  to  the  lowlands  and  on  out  to  the 
open  sea. 

It  is  up  these  gorges  and  canyons  that  all  roads  and 
trails  run;  indeed,  must  run,  for  elsewhere  the  moun- 
tains are  all  but  impassable.  If  one  should  make  his  way 
for  some  distance  independently  of  the  valleys,  it  would 
be  only  to  find  himself  soon  confronted  by  an  impossible 
wall  or  an  impassable  gulf.     Following  a  canyon,  how- 

9 


10  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

ever,  means  following  a  river  up  to  its  source  at  or  very 
near  the  pass,  crossing  its  tributaries  on  the  way,  and 
all  with  a  full  certainty  that  over  the  pass  will  be  another 
valley  and  another  stream  widening  as  it  descends,  the 
whole  affording  a  guaranteed  passage  over  the  Divide 
and  into  the  country  that  lies  beyond. 

Mountain  travel,  therefore,  means  a  succession  of  ups 
and  downs,  generally  with  easy  grades,  rarely  with  a 
level  stretch  for  more  than  a  few  rods  at  a  time,  and 
occasionally  with  pitches  rivaling  in  steepness  any  roof 
but  a  church  spire  and  compelling  a  resort  to  the  well- 
known  principle  of  the  zigzag. 

Nothing  is  so  deceptive  in  or  near  the  mountains  as 
levels.  As  one  approaches  a  mountain  range  or  stands 
facing  a  lofty  peak,  the  unaccustomed  foreground  de- 
stroys all  judgment  as  to  level  lines  and,  in  general,  the 
ground  seems  to  pitch  abruptly  away  from  the  traveler 
and  to  descend  rapidly  toward  the  foot  of  the  mountains, 
even  when  the  actual  rise  is  very  considerable.  The  re- 
sult is  that  water  on  these  lower  levels,  though  descend- 
ing rapidly,  seems  to  be  frantically  tumbling  uphill.  This 
is  one  of  the  most  frequent,  as  it  is  also  one  of  the  most 
disconcerting,  phenomena  of  the  hills,  for  almost  every- 
body thinks  he  knows  uphill  from  downhill  and  is  likely 
to  charge  up  his  newly  discovered  inability  to  the  effects 
of  altitude  as  the  only  means  of  preserving  his  self-respect 
in  a  very  ordinary  matter. 

This,  in  general,  is  the  layout  confronting  the  traveler 
who  essays  to  know  the  mountains,  and  so  strange  and 
formidable  does  it  all  seem  that  comparatively  few  realize 
what  actually  lies  in  the  mysterious  upper  valleys.  It  is 
not  strange  that  primitive  folk  regard  the  mountains  as 


:f  VI 


-jum- 


w% 


'K\\^\^'/'^:-~: 


^    ^  r  * 


i 


-h-'  -;-'^' 


THE  LAYOUT  11 

the  home  of  spirits  and  that  even  Greece  peopled  her  little 
Olympus  and  its  neighbors  with  a  whole  fraternity  of 
warring  gods  and  goddesses  and  accordingly  kept  out  of 
the  hills  instead  of  using  them  for  recreation  purposes. 

No  guide  is  needed  even  in  the  wildest  regions,  for 
excellent  maps  of  all  the  national  parks  and  most  of  the 
other  mountain  sections  are  published  by  the  United 
States  Geological  Survey  and  may  be  obtained  for  a 
nominal  sum  direct  from  the  office  at  Washington. 
These  maps  show  in  great  detail  all  lakes,  rivers,  small 
streams,  and  contour  lines,  and  by  their  use  the  traveler 
may  pick  his  landmarks  and  know  always  where  he  is. 
If  he  will  cut  the  maps  to  pocket  size  and  paste  on  muslin 
with  a  quarter-inch  space  between  the  sections,  he  can 
carry  the  largest  map  with  perfect  convenience  and  know 
at  any  time  both  his  whereabouts  and  his  elevation.  Thus 
the  zest  of  exploration  will  be  coupled  with  the  satisfac- 
tion of  knowing  always  exactly  where  one  is  and  where 
one  may  expect  to  emerge  from  the  trail. 


IV 

GETTING  USED  TO  THE  MOUNTAINS 

The  casual  traveler  thinks  too  much  about  the  altitude, 
and  palpitation  and  faintness  often  come  more  from 
fright  than  from  rarefied  atmosphere.  The  basic  fact 
is  that  in  the  higher  altitudes  the  accustomed  work  of  the 
lungs  does  not  provide  even  the  usual  amount  of  oxygen, 
whereas  the  climber  is  probably  working  harder  than  at 
home.  The  obvious  remedy  is  deeper  breathing.  Most 
persons,  until  they  learn  better,  will  hold  the  breath  and 
run  up  a  steep  incline  thinking  to  rest  at  the  top,  but 
they  succeed  only  in  making  a  bad  matter  worse,  because 
the  seeming  crest  is  gained  only  to  discover  further  and 
further  heights  beyond,  for  there  is  no  top  for  miles 
ahead.  The  old-timer  takes  a  long,  slow,  and  deliberate 
step,  breathing  the  while  ''to  the  very  bottom  of  his 
boots."  And  so  he  goes  to  the  top  without  distress. 
Never  to  hurry  is  an  absolute  rule  in  the  mountains  when 
the  altitude  is  above  five  or  six  thousand  feet. 

The  novice  should  first  accustom  himself  to  an  altitude 
of  about  seven  thousand  feet  until  he  learns  to  breathe 
with  all  the  lungs  he  has  and  to  walk  properly.  Then,  if 
he  will  forget  all  about  altitude,  he  can  safely  go  to  the 
higher  levels  unless  he  has  some  organic  trouble,  in 
which  case  he  would  better  keep  out  of  the  mountains. 

12 


GETTING  USED  TO  THE  MOUNTAINS       13 

Our  own  party  went  over  the  pass  at  twelve  thousand  feet 
the  third  day  out,  with  no  difficulty  other  than  frequent 
pauses  for  breath. 

Not  because  it  is  the  mountains  but  because  the  kind 
of  camping  party  in  mind  is  undertaking  a  radical  change 
in  its  manner  of  living,  it  is  well  always  to  ''lay  up"  the 
second  or  third  day  out,  look  over  the  equipment,  make 
everything  shipshape,  and  incidentally  let  the  lameness 
get  well  out  of  the  legs. 

It  is  an  abiding  weakness  of  the  tenderfoot  to  set 
himself  daily  stunts  and  above  all  to  make  the  first  pass 
as  soon  as  possible.  This  is  all  wrong.  If  it  takes  a 
week  to  get  over  the  pass,  it  does  not  matter  if  the  party 
is  in  good  condition  and  getting  its  tramping  legs  well 
under  it.  The  objective  is  not  to  make  passes  but  to  live 
successfully  and  comfortably  out-of-doors;  not  to  put 
space  behind  but  to  absorb  what  the  mountains  have  to 
give. 

The  tramper  must  leave  behind  all  fear  of  "bugs  and 
snakes  and  things"  and  learn  to  sleep  on  the  ground. 
Cots  are  cold  in  spite  of  all  the  bedding  that  can  be  car- 
ried ;  besides,  the  pack  must  be  reduced  far  below  the  pro- 
portions of  such  trumpery  as  frame  beds  and  folding  bath- 
tubs, else  the  very  property  becomes  a  burden.  The 
would-be  mountaineer  must  learn  a  new  mode  of  life  in 
almost  every  respect;  indeed,  that  is  one  of  the  objects 
of  the  trip.  Beyond  the  use  of  soap  and  toothbrush,  he 
should  forego  all  attempts  at  carrying  his  daily  habits 
with  him ;  indeed,  a  large  part  of  the  good  of  it  all  is  the 
breaking  up  of  the  ordinary  habits  of  civilization,  many 
of  which  are  more  burdensome  than  necessary. 

There  is  nothing  to  fear  in  the  mountains  except  the 


14  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

bulls.  The  few  wild  animals  on  the  higher  levels  are  a 
timid  folk  ''not  out  looking  for  trouble."  But  the  cattle 
in  the  valleys  and  on  a  thousand  hills  are  unaccustomed  to 
man  except  on  horseback,  and  the  bull  will  not  leave  his 
band  or  the  cow  her  calf  until  time  is  afforded  to  draw 
slowly  away.  Given  plenty  of  time,  both  bulls  and  cows 
will  retire  peaceably  with  no  danger  to  the  tramper, 
while  if  crowded,  either  one  might  charge  and  create  an 
ugly  situation. 

Landslides  and  washouts  are  never  for  a  moment  to 
be  left  out  of  the  reckoning,  though  at  the  season  in  ques- 
tion both  have  subsided  to  a  minimum.  Nevertheless, 
the  most  casual  observation  will  serve  to  show  that  these 
are  mighty  factors  in  mountain  architecture  and  that, 
so  far  as  the  western  ranges  are  concerned,  at  least,  the 
job  of  creation  is  far  from  finished. 

Every  winter  sends  down  enormous  quantities  of  earth 
and  rock  from  the  higher  levels,  and  the  occasional  cloud- 
burst will  do  the  same  at  any  season.  However  enticing 
the  spot,  therefore,  no  camp  should  be  pitched  even  in 
the  pleasantest  weather  in  any  of  the  funnel-like  shelving 
mountain  sides  which  observation  may  show  are  natural 
pathways  for  a  sudden  deluge.  All  camp  sites  should 
be  chosen  on  rounding  shoulders  and  not  at  the  foot  of 
side  ravines. 

Some  tenderfeet  seem  possessed  of  a  determination  to 
kill  themselves  by  venturing  into  dangerous  places,  and 
by  that  is  meant  the  edge  of  cliffs  or  on  shelving  hillsides 
covered  with  the  notorious  "slide  rock"  that  the  ex- 
perienced mountaineer  fights  shy  of  or  upon  glaciers 
without  a  guide,  alpine  stock,  and  plenty  of  rope.  It  is 
a  safe  rule  never  to  go  anywhere  except  on  ground  that 


GETTING  USED  TO  THE  MOUNTAINS       15 

by  no  possibility  can  give  way,  and  even  so,  the  factor  of 
safety  must  be  kept  liberal.  The  fool  impulse  of  moun- 
tain travel  is  the  passion  to  have  the  picture  taken  when 
posing  in  dangerous  places.  Here  common  sense,  rather 
than  impulse,  must  govern  action. 

While  there  is  no  danger  on  the  trail  to  those  who 
use  due  caution,  yet,  because  accidents  may  happen,  the 
minimum  number  that  should  constitute  any  tramping 
party  is  three, — as  one  mountaineer  put  it,  "one  to  get 
hurt,  one  to  stay  with  him,  and  one  to  go  for  help."  The 
rule  is  a  good  one,  though  the  chances  of  getting  injured 
are  rare  indeed  if  only  reasonable  caution  is  used. 

One  may  drink  in  safety  from  any  stream  in  the  higher 
levels,  but  irrigation  ditches  should  be  avoided.  How- 
ever, the  traveler  would  be  wise  to  take  the  anti-typhoid 
treatment  before  starting  out  to  tramp  in  any  section  of 
the  country,  even  the  higher  levels,  though  this  precaution 
applies  to  any  other  form  of  expedition  even  more 
strongly  than  to  the  mountain  tramp  in  which  the  prin- 
cipal danger  of  infection  Hes  in  going  and  coming. 

The  laws  of  perspective  deceive  the  traveler  as  to 
heights  of  mountains,  and  so  profound  is  the  deception 
that  he  is  always  disappointed  in  the  appearance  of  even 
the  most  lofty  peaks.  In  his  mind  he  has  accustomed 
himself  to  look  almost  straight  up  to  see  the  top  of  a 
fourteen-thousand-foot  mountain,  and  that  would  be  cor- 
rect did  such  a  peak  rise  straight  up  like  a  liberty  pole. 
But  as  the  traveler  skirts  the  foothills,  the  peak  is  many 
miles  away  and  probably  looks  merely  like  a  shoulder  in 
the  landscape,  perhaps  like  a  low-lying  cloud.  Indeed,  it 
may  be  entirely  hidden  by  some  intervening  insignificant 
foothill.    The  one  great  test  of  height  is  snow  at  the  top, 


16  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

the  next  is  dimness  of  detail  as  compared  with  nearer 
hills,  and  the  final  test  is  that  blue  haze  which  lies  between 
the  eye  and  all  distant  objects,  the  same  haze  that  makes 
the  ''blue  vault  of  heaven." 

If,  therefore,  the  peak  shows  snow,  is  dim  of  outline, 
or  is  seen  through  blue  haze,  the  traveler  is  safe  in  con- 
cluding that  he  is  looking  at  one  of  nature's  majestic 
mountains,  perhaps  seventy-five  or  a  hundred  miles  away. 
The  writer  got  his  first  view  of  Teneriffe  at  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  miles  as  a  pointed  cloud  rising  slightly 
above  the  horizon. 

Perchance  some  day  may  come  unannounced  a  forest 
ranger  locating  the  smoke  of  the  camp-fire,  a  cow-boy 
going  to  a  round-up,  or  possibly  a  sheep-man  looking  for 
company,  for  these  men  are  lonely  out  in  the  hills.  They 
are  all  human  beings  and  grand  good  fellows  to  boot. 
With  them  the  tramper  will  do  well  to  keep  on  friendly 
terms,  for  they  will  be  fond  of  him  as  he  is  of  them, 
if  only  the  opportunity  offers,  and  they  will  help  him  in 
every  possible  way.  These  denizens  of  the  hills  are  not 
a  species  separate  from  the  genus  Homo,  as  some  tender- 
feet  seem  to  assume,  even  if  they  do  wear  chaps  of 
leather  and  sheepskin  to  keep  the  branches  from  tearing 
their  clothes ;  indeed,  a  surprising  proportion  are  col- 
lege graduates.  But  whether  lettered  or  unlettered,  they 
all  have  absorbed  the  greatness  of  the  hill  country  and 
their  meeting  is  always  a  happy  incident,  for  they  are  a 
real  part  of  the  mountains. 

It  is  frequently  necessary  to  scout  out  a  new  trail  or 
road  where  none  exists  or  where  there  is  some  doubt  as 
to  the  proper  course.  In  order  that  the  scout  may  be 
certain  of  returning  to  his  party  through  thicket  or  con- 


GETTING  USED  TO  THE  MOUNTAINS       17 

fusion  of  turnings,  it  is  well  to  break  down  a  limb  or 
twig  occasionally  on  his  way  out  or  set  up  some  kind  of 
marker  by  which  he  may  find  his  way  back  with  certainty, 
for  everything  looks  different  on  the  return. 

Finally  the  traveler  must  not  expect  the  sensational 
every  moment  of  the  time.  Even  the  mountains  do  not 
afford  continuous  panoramas  of  superlatives.  Besides, 
one  goes  to  the  hills  not  wholly,  or  even  mainly  for  that 
which  he  can  see  with  the  eyes,  but  to  become  a  part  of 
the  mountains  themselves  and  to  live  a  life  that  all  in 
good  time  pervades  and  upUfts  the  very  soul  of  him. 


THE  TRAIL 

The  start  is  always  the  same, — a  plunge  into  the  foot- 
hills, more  than  likely  over  a  fairly  good  road  and  on 
what  seems  a  steep  decline,  as  already  described,  so  that 
the  river,  the  ever-present  river,  seems  to  be  rolling 
tumultuously  uphill  to  meet  the  traveler.  This  deceptive 
appearance  is  due  to  the  same  perspective  that  makes  all 
peaks  and  mountainsides  look  flatter  than  they  really  are. 
The  way,  in  truth,  rises  rapidly  from  the  plain  as  it 
heads  directly  for  an  opening,  through  the  canyon. 

The  first  few  miles  of  the  real  climb  will  probably  be 
upon  a  generous  road  or  trail,  sending  branches  up  side 
canyons  here  and  there,  growing  steadily  narrower  and 
less  used  as  it  ascends,  leaving  travel  and  civilization  be- 
hind as  it  winds  its  tortuous  way  higher  and  ever  higher 
toward  the  everlasting  snows. 

In  all  the  lower  levels  the  trail  is  readily  followed,  as 
it  conforms  to  the  sweeping  bends  of  the  river  whose 
waters  here  are  strong  enough  to  plow  out  a  fairly  easy, 
even  though  winding,  channel.  Farther  up,  however,  the 
mountain  becomes  master  and  the  infant  river  makes 
its  turbulent  way  as  best  it  may  over  rocks  it  cannot  move, 
against  bluffs  it  cannot  pierce,  and  around  points  it  is 
unable  to  wear  away,  plunging  here  and  halting  there — 

18 


THE  TRAIL  19 

any  way  to  get  ahead  and  downward  in  its  tumultuous 
hurry  out  of  the  hills. 

It  is  here  on  the  higher  levels  that  the  trail  often  be- 
comes confused.  Clear  as  any  highway  up  to  a  certain 
point,  it  suddenly  vanishes  so  completely  that  the  tender- 
foot casts  his  eye  upward  as  in  wonder  whether,  like 
Jacob's  ladder,  it  may  not  have  been  drawn  up  into  the 
heavens.  The  old-timer  knows,  however,  that  he  has  only 
struck  an  open  spot  in  which  every  traveler  and  every 
animal  has  had  a  choice  of  ways  instead  of  wearing  a 
single  path.  Therefore,  he  scouts  a  great  circle  until  he 
picks  up  the  trail  again.  It  may  be  going  in  the  same 
direction  as  when  it  was  lost,  it  may  possibly  turn  abruptly 
around  some  point  or  other  obstruction,  or  it  may  head 
straight  up  some  inviting  valley  or  friendly  slope. 

There  is  no  danger  of  getting  lost.  It  is  assumed  that 
the  traveler  has  acquainted  himself  by  maps  and  other 
reliable  information  which  can  always  be  secured  of  the 
forest  ranger  with  the  general  lay  of  the  country  and 
particularly  with  the  principal  rivers  and  peaks,  and  so 
has  plenty  of  landmarks.  If,  however,  he  should  become 
hopelessly  confused,  there  are  two  things  to  be  done. 
In  a  frequented  region,  he  should  build  two  smoke  fires 
and  wait ;  otherwise,  he  should  travel  downhill  until  he 
comes  to  water,  follow  this  and  it  will  lead  him  out,  for 
the  mountains  are  not  like  the  trackless  and  illimitable 
forest;  there  is  always  a  sure  way  out  by  following  the 
streams. 

It  is  along  the  higher  levels  that  the  trail  makes  its 
tortuous  way  as  best  it  can.  Now  it  follows  a  broad  and 
easy  road  through  heavy  timber  with  vistas  here  and  there 
that  would  seem  to  lead  straight  up  to  Paradise.     Now  it 


20  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

comes  to  a  turn  so  sharp  as  to  suggest  the  end  of  the 
trail,  but,  skirting  a  cliff,  it  emerges  without  warning  on 
broad  meadows  green  with  grass  or  blue  with  lupins. 
Up  a  winding  valley  carpeted  with  Indian  paint-brush, 
past  beds  of  larkspur  and  of  columbine,  stateliest  of  the 
mountain  flowers,  and  on  through  fields  of  roses  with 
borders  almost  as  distinct  as  if  made  by  a  gardener,  the 
ascending  trail  leads  the  astonished  traveler  up  and  ever 
upward,  revealing  new  wonders  at  every  step. 

Up  and  up,  and  always  up,  the  trail  climbs  the  slopes 
between  great  bowlders  with  scarcely  room  for  packs, 
rounds  the  point  on  an  overhanging  rock,  and  strikes  out 
upon  the  broad  mountainside  steeper  than  many  roofs 
and  a  thousand  feet  or  more  above  the  foaming  waters 
rushing  along  so  far  below  that  all  motion  is  lost  to 
the  eye  and  the  turbulent  stream  seems  a  ribbon  of  silver 
flecked  with  wool.  Upward  and  still  upward  the  trail 
runs  across  fields  of  melting  snow.  Here  the  beaten 
path  lies  eight  or  ten  feet  farther  down  the  slope  than 
upon  the  solid  land,  mute  witness  that,  like  any  other 
glacier,  melting  snow  is  generally  under  irresistible  mo- 
tion down  the  sides  of  the  mountain. 

At  the  head  of  the  valley,  in  most  instances,  the  trail 
leads  up  a  rocky  and  almost  perpendicular  wall  five  hun- 
dred, possibly  twenty-five  hundred,  feet  in  height,  depend- 
ing on  the  character  of  the  cirque  that  is  just  below  the 
pass.  In  any  case,  it  is  nearly  always  so  steep  as  to  com- 
pel a  resort  to  the  zigzag  method  of  climbing,  which  is 
the  only  way  of  reducing  the  steeper  grades  to  the  pos- 
sibilities of  the  footman  or  his  pack  animal.  This  last 
climb  is  the  great  feature  of  approach  to  any  pass. 

Here  at  some  point  we  cross  the  timber  line  so  sud- 


III.     We  Discover  the  Trail  That  Leads  Always  UrwARD. 


THE  TRAIL  21 

denly  that  the  trees  themselves  seem  to  have  been  sheered 
off  with  some  giant  sickle,  so  level  are  the  tops  and  so 
suddenly  does  all  timber  stop.  Thenceforth,  above  tim- 
ber line,  the  trail  lies  always  in  the  open  with  all  con- 
spicuous vegetation  left  behind,  excepting  only  the  low- 
liest flowers. 

Most  attractive  of  these  denizens  of  the  upper  levels  are 
the  hundreds  of  beds  of  forget-me-nots,  fairest  and  most 
fragrant  of  all  the  mountain  sisters.  These  little  blue 
eyes  look  straight  into  the  face  of  the  traveler  with  a 
kind  of  yearning,  as  if  they  had  been  expecting  him  all 
along  and  as  if  wondering  why  he  leaves  so  soon. 

Strange,  almost  uncanny,  is  this  vivid  evidence  of  life 
up  here,  where  all  else  is  bare  and  cold  and  dead,  where 
snow  holds  supremacy  undisputed,  and  where  keen  winds 
blow  at  any  season  of  the  year.  Here  the  traveler  may 
pick  his  bouquet  with  one  hand  and  make  a  snowball 
with  the  other,  as  I  have  done  many  a  time  when  linger- 
ing for  a  moment  on  the  higher  levels  we  have  been  climb- 
ing so  long  to  reach.  From  here  to  the  top  the  trail  leads 
alternately  over  broken  ground,  bare  rock,  snow  fields, 
and  tundra,  as  it  makes  its  final  ascent  to  the  pass. 


VI 

THE  PASS 

Most  mountains  have  a  slightly  flattened  top;  that  is 
to  say,  the  steepest  places  are  some  distance  below  the 
summit.  As  we  near  this  shoulder  and  the  grade  lessens, 
the  feet  seem  about  to  run  away  with  the  body,  by  which 
the  old-timer  knows,  even  before  the  eye  gives  him  warn- 
ing, that  he  is  nearing  the  pass  and  the  beginning  of 
another  valley  that  will  lead  him  down  the  opposite  side. 
A  few  moments  later  this  new  prospect  literally  bursts  on 
his  view,  as  it  seems  to  rise  without  warning  out  of  the 
very  earth  beneath  and  in  front  of  him  with  an  effect 
that  is  startling  both  for  its  suddenness  and  for  its 
grandeur. 

No  words  have  been  invented  that  can  describe  the 
magnificence  of  the  vision  that  greets  the  traveler  as  he 
emerges  from  the  valley  behind  and  suddenly  finds  an- 
other spread  out  at  his  very  feet,  stretching  away  and 
away  below  him  miles  on  miles  into  the  distance, — a  vast 
amphitheater  of  green  and  blue  and  gray  and  white;  an- 
other world  complete  in  its  every  detail. 

A  lake  glimmers  in  the  foreground  while  the  inevitable 
silver  stream  winds  away  and  is  lost  in  the  distance  as 
it  plunges  below  the  timber  line.  On  every  side  of  the 
enchanted  valley  and  shutting  it  in  from  the  remainder 

22 


THE  PASS  23 

of  the  world,  rise  the  great  mountains  side  by  side  Hke 
giant  guards,  silent,  massive,  eternal,  white,  and  cold. 
Their  huge  bare  shoulders,  on  which  the  foot  of  man  has 
never  rested,  nor  indeed  will  rest,  stand  boldly  out  against 
the  sky,  while  their  mantles  of  melting  snow,  like  great 
lace  collars,  seem  to  stream  away  down  the  sides  as  the 
accumulation  of  a  thousand  storms  lingers  in  the  deeper 
gorges  and  melts  but  slowly  away.  Above  and  over  all 
rise  the  snow-crowned  heads  of  these  mighty  monarchs 
of  the  Divide,  their  shining  helmets  glittering  in  the  sun- 
light far  above  the  mists  and  clouds  that  drift  across 
their  lower  levels  Hke  skulking  coyotes  caught  at  their 
kill. 

Looking  back  over  the  valley  from  which  he  has 
emerged,  the  traveler,  standing  on  the  pass,  is  again 
amazed  to  behold,  in  a  single  view  and  with  finished  per- 
spective, what  he  has  been  so  many  hours  in  laboriously 
ascending.  There  lies  behind  him  that  mighty  sweep  of 
mountainside  with  the  trail  pricked  out  here  and  there 
in  forest  and  bush  and  rock,  running  like  a  thread  of  gold 
through  a  fabric  of  green  and  gray.  Far  below  is  the 
camp  site  of  the  night  before  and  a  little  farther  back  is 
all  that  remains  of  the  great  snowslide  that  went  thunder- 
ing down  the  mountainside  last  winter,  uprooting  the 
largest  trees  and  taking  everything  along  as  it  went.  In 
its  mighty  energy  it  stopped  not  at  the  bottom  of  the 
valley  but  rushed  on  some  hundreds  of  feet  up  the  op- 
posite slope,  there  at  last  to  come  to  rest  with  its  mass 
of  snow  and  ice  and  rock  and  broken  trees,  reckless  of  the 
damage  done  as  another  step  was  taken  in  filling  the 
valleys  from  the  slopes  above  and  in  smoothing  off  the 
earth  that  is  yet  in  the  making.    Surely  it  is  here  that  the 


24  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

giants  come  to  play,  and  it  was  in  a  place  like  this  that 
the  prophet  must  have  stood  when  he  exclaimed,  "What 
is  man  that  Thou  art  mindful  of  him?" 

Between  the  two,  the  valley  behind  and  the  valley 
ahead,  between  what  he  has  seen  and  the  vision  of  a 
prospect  he  expects  to  explore,  the  astounded  traveler  at 
the  pass  bares  his  head  in  adoration  that  such  things 
were  made  to  be,  and  silently  he  utters  a  word  of  thanks 
that  he  is  one  of  the  fortunate  few  to  stand  alone  with  it 
all  at  the  top  of  the  world — seemingly  in  the  very  presence 
of  the  Most  High,  whose  voice  he  feels  he  might  hear 
at  almost  any  moment  thundering  down  the  mountain,  as 
Moses  did  on  Sinai. 

Lost  in  wonder  and  amaze,  the  climber  at  the  pass  feels 
at  first  almost  like  an  intruder  on  the  privacy  of  nature 
but  gradually  becoming  accustomed  to  the  heavenly  vision, 
he  continues  his  way  a  different  and  a  better  man,  for 
the  normal  human  soul  cannot  behold  these  visions  face 
to  face  and  day  after  day  without  being  profoundly  in- 
fluenced, not  only  at  the  time  but  permanently. 

This  will  seem  extravagant  language  to  one  who  has 
never  stood  at  the  passes  of  the  great  mountains,  and 
yet  how  feeble  and  inexpressive  it  all  appears  as  I  read 
it  over.  After  all,  how  inadequate  is  language  for  ex- 
pressing the  unusual  and  the  sublime ! 

Whoever  has  gone  over  Middle  Cottonwood  and  seen 
the  panorama  of  peaks  beyond;  whoever  has  climbed 
Taylor  Pass  and  gazed  on  the  valley  spread  out  for 
thirty  miles  below ;  whoever  has  stood  on  Pearl  or  on  St. 
Elmo  day  or  night  wondering  what  lay  beyond ;  whoever 
has  climbed  Red  Mountain  and  looked  back  on  the  amphi- 
theater of  hills  rising  to  his  feet  from  seemingly  illimit- 


THE  PASS  25 

able  depths;  whoever  has  gone  over  Independence  and 
looked  down  on  the  deserted  village  nestling  snugly  in 
the  valley  a  thousand  feet  below;  whoever  has  walked 
or  ridden  over  the  great  shoulder  of  Pegan  or  the  slopes 
of  Gunsight;  whoever  has  climbed  the  twenty-four  zig- 
zags at  Swift  Current,  looking  backward  two  thousand 
feet  below  and  out  over  a  hundred  miles  of  prairie;  who- 
ever has  gone  on  up  the  narrow  pass  and  gazed  fifteen 
hundred  feet  down  on  Granite  Park,  then  lifted  his  eyes 
in  amazement  to  Heaven's  Peak  beyond,  with  its  halo  of 
snow  glittering  in  the  sunlight;  whoever  has  seen 
Yosemite  across  the  valley,  climbed  the  zigzags  at  Vernal 
Falls,  or  taken  off  his  hat  to  El  Capitan  at  the  entrance ; 
whoever  has  stood  on  these  or  similar  enchanted  spots, 
will  agree  that  neither  word  nor  brush  can  convey  more 
than  a  feeble  picture  of  what  the  mountains  really  mean 
to  man. 

To  know  this  meaning,  one  must  feel  it,  and  to  do  that 
he  must  not  merely  see  the  mountains  as  in  a  picture — 
he  must  live  with  them  and  their  timber,  their  snows,  and 
their  waters,  day  after  day,  in  sunshine  and  in  storm, 
and  in  all  the  moods  and  tempers  which  nature  here  takes 
on.  That  is  the  privilege  only  of  the  one  who  actually 
tramps  their  foothills,  their  slopes,  and  their  passes,  day 
in  and  day  out,  as  part  of  the  nature  they  so  grandly 
typify. 


VII 
MAKING  CAMP 

It  is  the  end  of  a  perfect  day.  We  have  climbed,  we 
have  waded,  we  have  seen,  we  have  heard,  we  have  felt. 
We  have  followed  the  trail  in  all  its  meanderings,  we  have 
wandered  at  our  own  sweet  will,  we  have  loaded  our- 
selves with  wild  flowers,  we  have  marveled  at  mountain 
slope  and  cloud  effect,  we  have  unslung  the  cup  from  the 
belt  and  carried  it  brimming  to  the  lips  from  the  moun- 
tain torrent  a  score  of  times.  We  have  rolled  rocks  down 
the  precipice  and  listened  like  boys  at  play  as  they  went 
thundering  into  the  depths  below,  we  have  stood  with 
heads  uncovered  before  the  mighty  majesty  of  the  moun- 
tains, and  we  have  really  lived,  for  we  have  experienced 
what  is  rare,  except  in  childhood, — the  rapture  of  bare 
physical  existence. 

But  now  we  are  weary  and  hungry!  Hungry,  not 
politely  and  reservedly  as  at  home,  but  hungry  with  a 
kind  of  savage  and  all-pervading  demand  for  food  and 
plenty  of  it.  And  why  not?  We  have  been  on  the  trail 
since  morning  with  only  a  cracker  or  a  biscuit  or  a  hand- 
ful of  raisins,  for  the  tramper  does  not  eat  when  climb- 
ing. But  now  we  impatiently  crave  nourishment  as  we 
did  in  childhood;  and  we  have  need  for  it,  for  if  we  have 
climbed  say  three  thousand  feet,  we  have  done  lifting 

26 


MAKING  CAMP  27 

equivalent  to  the  shoveling  of  some  twenty  tons  of  coal 
from  the  ground  into  a  wagon.  For  an  hour  or  more  we 
have  been  looking  for  a  good  camping  site  and  here  it 
is. 

Here  is  timber  for  shelter  and  for  that  shut-in  effect 
that  makes  a  home  out  of  a  camp,  even  in  the  wilderness. 
A  home  out-of-doors  in  the  wilderness?  Yes,  indeed; 
for  if  the  spot  be  favorable  in  its  immediate  surroundings 
and  in  its  view  either  up  or  down  the  canyon,  a  few  min- 
utes will  suffice  to  put  the  equipment  in  its  accustomed 
order  and  to  set  up  comfortable  living  with  that  homey 
feeling  which  the  traveler  seeks  always  to  gratify.  We 
have  a  number  of  such  temporary  homes  scattered  over 
the  mountains,  and  we  pay  them  frequent  visits,  not  only 
in  our  dreams,  but  in  our  waking  retrospections,  as  we 
live  again  from  time  to  time  the  glorious  experiences  of 
vacation  on  the  trail. 

In  choosing  a  camping  spot,  certain  definite  require- 
ments are  in  mind.  No  matter  how  good  the  timber  or 
how  attractive  the  spot,  the  camp  must  not  be  at  the 
mouth  of  a  valley  likely  to  be  flooded  by  a  sudden  cloud- 
burst or  other  cause  of  the  breaking  away  of  waters  from 
their  accustomed  channels  on  higher  levels.  With  this 
provided  against,  the  camp  may  be  located  wholly  with 
reference  to  the  traveler's  immediate  needs,  always  re- 
membering that  the  wind  will  turn  at  sunset  and  blow 
down  the  valley  until  morning. 

Here  is  an  open  space  for  tents  and  over  there  is  an 
excellent  spot  for  the  "kitchen,"  with  plenty  of  space  near 
by  for  that  important  event  to  follow — the  feast  of 
biscuits  and  bacon,  with  simple  trimmings.  Yonder  is 
an  ideal  site  for  the  camp-fire,  later  on,  with  plenty  of 


28  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

open  space  for  sitting  about  the  blaze.  Wood  is  abun- 
dant. Water  of  the  best  is  just  at  hand  and  running 
to  waste,  and  down  the  slope  is  plenty  of  grass  for  the 
burros.  Everything  is  ideal  for  meeting  the  needs  of 
the  party  for  refreshment  against  another  day,  and  here 
we  rest. 

These  separate  spots  are  features  to  be  located  definitely 
before  a  knot  is  loosened  for  unpacking.  I  am  not  de- 
scribing travel  by  caravan  with  great  trains  of  pack  ani- 
mals, a  retinue  of  servants  to  do  the  work,  and  supplies 
that  insure  a  Delmonico  dinner,  nor  am  I  referring  to 
that  abomination  of  all  camping  by  which  the  tramper 
carries  his  supplies  upon  his  back;  cooking,  eating,  and 
I  had  almost  said  living,  in  his  frying-pan.  I  am  try- 
ing to  describe  a  simple  style  of  family  camping  in  which 
the  party  does  all  its  own  work  and  in  which  one  pack 
burro  can  carry  the  food,  tents,  and  supplies  for  each 
two  members  of  the  party  on  a  thirty-day  trip.  Three 
to  six  make  an  ideal  party,  but  if  the  company  is  larger 
than  six,  it  would  better  break  up  into  sections  and  travel 
separately  with  definite  meeting  places  arranged  in  ad- 
vance. 

The  party,  whatever  the  number,  will  divide  into  two 
groups,  one  to  prepare  the  food  and  wash  the  dishes,  and 
the  other  to  gather  wood,  bring  water,  pitch  tents,  wrangle 
the  pack  animals,  repair  equipment,  and  finally  to  pack 
for  the  next  day's  trip.  In  a  mixed  company  the  division 
is  obvious,  the  male  members  being  best  adapted  to  the 
use  of  the  only  kind  of  language  which  most  burros 
understand  and  to  those  forms  of  activity  best  calculated 
to  secure  from  the  lazy  and  tricky  little  beasts  that  at- 
tention to  business  which  is  necessary  to  progress.     This 


MAKING  CAMP  29 

means  by  the  principle  of  reductio  ad  absurdum  that  the 
ladies  do  the  cooking. 

The  camp  is  quickly  made.  The  packs  are  unloaded 
near — not  on  top  of — the  various  spots  selected  for  the 
tents  and  for  the  kitchen  fire.  It  is  a  queer  kink  in 
human  nature  that  leads  the  novice  on  the  trail  to  dump 
his  pack  on  the  very  spot  on  which  he  expects  to  pitch  his 
tent  or  erect  his  stove,  compelling  an  extra  handling.  It 
seems  to  take  a  man  of  ordinary  intelligence  and  fore- 
sight about  a  week  to  learn  to  pile  his  stuff  just  one  side 
of  the  spot  selected  for  actual  operations,  all  of  which 
is  a  vast  argument  for  the  doctrine  that  evolution  is  the 
only  hope  of  the  race. 

A  good  plan  is  to  lay  the  sleeping-bags  unopened  on 
the  ground  while  everybody  drops  down  for  about  ten 
minutes  flat  on  the  back  for  a  real  stretch  out  before  be- 
ginning the  labors  of  the  evening.  This  does  not  mean 
a  nap,  for  that  Avould  bring  stiffness  in  the  cool  of  the 
approaching  night,  but  only  a  few  minutes  of  complete 
relaxation  of  all  the  muscles. 

The  first  task  is  to  put  up  the  cooking  jack  and  build 
the  kitchen  fire.  Then,  while  one  shift  prepares  the 
supper,  the  other  pitches  the  tents,  opens  the  sleeping-bags 
or  bed-rolls  and  digs  a  little  trench  to  turn  water  from 
the  tent,  making  everything  taut  for  the  night,  for  one 
never  knows  when  a  sudden  storm  may  come.  If  one 
of  the  party  is  to  slip  away  with  hook  and  line  to  secure 
a  little  variety,  I  am  sure  that  nobody  will  object,  but 
nothing  must  interfere  with  the  job  of  getting  everything 
ready  for  the  night  before  darkness  comes  creeping  over 
the  mountainside,  for  it  is  not  feasible  to  provide  illumi- 
nation beyond  a  small  electric  flashlight. 


30  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

The  best  of  all  tents  for  the  movable  camp  is  one  with 
a  front  that  can  be  raised  as  a  fly  under  which  cooking 
may  be  done  in  time  of  storm.  This  tent  requires  but 
two  poles,  and  the  same  rope  is  used  both  for  ridge  and 
for  end  stays.  This  part  of  tent-pitching  must  be  well 
done,  for  if  this  rope  is  securely  fastened  to  trees  or  heavy 
stakes,  almost  anything  will  serve  for  pegging  down  with- 
out danger  of  collapse  in  a  sudden  gust  of  wind.  All 
knots  should  be  tied  with  loose  ends  by  which  they  can 
be  untied  with  a  jerk,  even  if  tightened  by  wetting. 

Before  spreading  the  beds,  the  ground  should  be  care- 
fully looked  over  for  snags  and  protruding  shrubs  and 
rocks,  which  can  be  dug  out  by  that  most  useful  of  all 
camp  tools,  the  mason's  pick.  The  pack  covers  make  good 
tent  rugs,  protecting  against  the  litter  of  the  ground. 

By  the  time  these  matters  are  carefully  attended  to, 
the  call  to  chuck  will  be  heard  in  camp  and  everything 
drops  instantly.  There  is  no  need  to  instruct  even  the 
merest  novice  as  to  how  to  deal  with  the  biscuits  and 
bacon  that  will  form  the  bulk  of  the  meal.  There  is  no 
use  either  in  cautioning  anybody  to  eat  moderately,  for 
under  the  circumstances  it  will  not  be  done.  In  truth, 
there  is  little  need  of  caution,  for  I  have  never  known 
acute  indigestion  in  camp. 

If  anything  is  left — but  there  will  not  be — it  can  be  fed 
to  the  burros ;  and  this  is  the  usual  practice  when  break- 
ing camp,  for  I  have  never  found  anything  that  they 
refused  to  eat,  esteeming,  as  they  do,  tinfoil  and  greasy 
paper  napkins  as  special  delicacies. 

With  the  washing  of  the  dishes  and  the  collection  of 
wood,  the  company  is  ready  for  the  last  and  the  best  cere- 
mony of  the  day,  the  camp-fire. 


VIII 
THE  CAMP-FIRE 

While  *^the  girls,"  that  is,  the  cooks,  are  doing  the 
dishes  after  supper — for  this  royal  gorge  may  not  be 
called  a  dinner — *'the  boys"  that  is,  the  wranglers,  collect 
wood  for  a  camp-fire.  It  may  be  dead  aspen  warranted 
to  make  a  bright  yellow  smokeless  blaze.  It  may  be  sage- 
brush when  out  upon  the  desert,  and  sagebrush  is  better 
for  the  camp-fire  than  for  cooking,  unless  it  be  chopped 
fine  and  burned  in  a  shallow  trench.  It  may  be  a  small 
dead  tree  cut  into  six-foot  or  eight-foot  lengths  to  be 
burned  in  two  by  **niggering,"  then  swung  together  at 
the  ends  to  make  a  "hot  one."  A  few  evergreen  branches 
may  be  available  to  throw  upon  the  bed  of  burning  coals 
as  the  fire  dies  down,  filling  the  nostrils  with  the  pungent 
odor  of  burning  balsam,  and  sending  streamers  of  fire 
off  into  the  night,  chasing  the  gathering  shadows  back 
into  the  forest  again. 

The  warmth  of  burning  logs  and  the  flare  and  flicker 
of  the  flame,  especially  in  the  gathering  shades  of  evening, 
exert  a  subtle  influence  out  in  the  wild  that  is  not  far 
from  that  of  companionship  with  something  intelligent, 
beneficent,  but  mysterious.  It  is  not  difficult,  therefore, 
to  understand  how  primitive   folk    easily    become    fire- 

31 


Z2  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

worshipers.  To  any  man  with  sentiment  living  alone  out 
in  the  mountains,  the  building  of  a  new  fire  is  well-nigh 
a  sacred  rite  to  be  performed  with  especial  deliberation 
and  almost  ceremonial  care  involving  certain  definite  and 
specific  acts, — the  selection  of  the  spot,  the  gathering  of 
suitable  material,  the  discovery  of  dry  quick-burning 
stuff  for  the  lighting,  and,  last  of  all,  the  proper  laying 
of  the  kindling  and  the  logs. 

The  spot  may  be  against  a  rock,  if  it  is  desired  to  re- 
flect the  heat  into  tents  or  over  the  camp  site,  but  never 
against  a  log  or  stump  or  tree,  for  it  is  impossible  com- 
pletely to  extinguish  a  fire  in  such  a  location,  and  the 
putting  out  of  the  last  spark  either  by  drenching  with 
water  or  covering  with  dirt  is  both  the  legal  and  the 
moral  obligation  of  any  man  who  starts  a  fire  in  the  wild. 
Let  the  site  be  chosen,  therefore,  against  a  rock  or  pref- 
erably, in  most  cases,  out  in  the  open. 

Almost  anything  that  is  dry  will  serve  for  making  heat, 
but  a  beautiful  flame  is  a  consideration  as  well,  and  the 
camper  will  soon  learn  the  most  desirable  woods  in  his 
locality.  Pitch  is  to  be  avoided  as  smoky  and  unduly 
hot,  but  an  occasional  evergreen  bough  will  often  give 
fine  effects  in  fiery  streamers  that  float  off  into  the  night 
like  evil  spirits  seeking  rest. 

The  last  hunt  is  for  something  that  will  light  easily 
to  start  the  fire.  A  search  under  down  timber,  rotting 
logs,  in  dense  thickets,  or  other  sheltered  places  will  usually 
discover  dry  slivers,  twigs,  or  bark  that  can  be  lighted 
easily.  Failing  in  this,  the  ax  may  be  requisitioned  to 
split  a  dry  chip  out  of  some  dead  tree  or  seasoned  stump 
from  which  shavings  can  be  made  with  a  jacknife.  As  a 
last  resort  even  in  wet  weather,  the  bark  may  be  twiste  1 


THE  CAMP-FIRE  33 

from  dead  twigs,  leaving  the  wood  fairly  dry,  but  the 
experienced  camper  carries  in  his  pack  a  small  piece  of 
fine  kindling  against  all  emergencies. 

Everything  is  ready  for  the  laying,  and  herein  lies  a 
fine  art  that  seems  to  be  known  only  to  the  woodsman. 
The  tenderfoot  has  seen  wood  burning  always  in  hori- 
zontal piles  as  in  the  stove  or  furnace,  and  that  is  his 
idea  of  laying  a  fire.  Not  so  the  experienced  camper. 
He  first  selects  a  back  log  five  or  six  inches  in  diameter 
and  against  this  he  builds  his  fire.  Having  lighted  the 
shavings  or  twisted  bark,  he  begins  to  lay  on  small  slivers 
or  twigs,  not  horizontally  but  standing  on  end,  gradually 
enlarging  the  size  of  the  sticks  but  always  building  teepee 
fashion  so  that  the  blaze  is  teased  up  through  the  mass  by 
the  natural  draft  as  in  a  chimney.  See  insert  in  illustra- 
tion opposite  p.  52. 

Should  it  chance  to  be  raining,  it  may  be  necessary  to 
cover  the  incipient  blaze  with  a  piece  of  bark  until  it 
gets  well  started  or,  in  extreme  cases  when  other  shelter 
is  wanting,  it  may  be  required  to  use  the  hat  or  even  the 
coat  for  temporary  shelter.  It  is  no  fun  to  build  a  fire 
in  a  rain  but  it  frequently  has  to  be  done  and,  with  plenty 
of  wood,  one  can  really  dry  himself  at  an  open  fire  even 
w^hen  it  is  raining  hard. 

I  am  assuming  that  the  camper  is  not  only  provided 
with  that  modern  necessity  known  as  matches  but  that 
he  has  them  always  on  his  person  and  that  in  the  pack 
he  has  guarded  the  supply  against  any  possibility  of 
getting  wet.  Of  course  if  any  camper  wishes  to  start  his 
fire  by  rubbing  two  sticks  together,  he  is  at  perfect  lib- 
erty to  do  so,  but,  so  far  as  actual  experience  goes,  that 
performance  is  a  primitive  fad,  like  frying  bacon  on  a 


34  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

stick  instead  of  in  a  skillet,  as  every  practical  woodsman 
does,  not  only  to  cook  the  bacon  without  burning  but  to 
preserve  the  fat  as  a  substitute  for  butter.  In  all  these 
necessary  matters,  it  is  the  part  of  wisdom  to  find  the 
method  that  best  squares  with  all  the  conditions  and  fol- 
low that.  There  is  no  virtue  in  being  uncomfortable  or 
in  doing  a  thing  in  the  most  inconvenient  way  merely  be- 
cause the  camper  is  living  next  to  nature ;  indeed,  quite 
the  contrary.  The  wise  tramper  will  avail  himself  of 
every  advantage  and  every  convenience  which  circum- 
stances provide,  even  to  appropriating  a  deserted  cabin 
in  a  storm. 

Here,  around  the  camp-fire,  the  company  assembles  to 
rest  before  retiring,  to  talk  over  the  events  and  ad- 
ventures of  the  day,  and  to  make  plans  for  the  morrow 
in  the  only  hour  of  real  leisure  that  is  found  upon  the  trail. 
We  talk  over  how  the  day  compares  with  yesterday  or 
the  trail  with  others  done  before;  the  excellence  and  the 
shortcomings  of  this  particular  string  of  burros  compared 
with  others  we  have  known ;  how  no  thistle  blossom  es- 
caped the  vigilant  eye  of  old  Jenny;  how  Jack  got  fast 
between  two  trees,  not  knowing  enough  to  back  out ;  how 
Jeremiah,  the  fool  on  the  job,  fell  completely  over,  with 
his  pack  wedged  between  two  rocks  and  his  feet  waving 
helplessly  in  the  air;  how  *T.  W."  lay  down  upon  the 
trail,  feigning  illness,  time  after  time,  until  the  old-timer, 
tired  of  his  tricks,  went  at  his  ears  right  roughly  with  his 
walking  stick;  how  a  burro  can  know  so  little  and  live, 
and  how  he  came  to  know  so  much  that  is  of  no  earthly 
use  to  him  or  anybody  else ;  wondering  what  becomes  of 
a  burro  in  the  end,  for  nobody  ever  saw  a  dead  one — 
does  he  explode  into  primordial  dust,  does  he  evaporate 


THE  CAMP-FIRE  35 

into  elemental  vapors,  or  is  he  transported  unchanged  into 
interstellar  space  to  make  music  for  the  spheres? 

So  is  the  mountain  canary  a  perpetual  source  of  amuse- 
ment, of  anger,  of  curiosity,  even  of  despair.  He  is  truly 
the  pepper  of  the  trail  and  the  spice  of  the  journey,  and 
we  would  not  have  it  otherwise.  We  wonder  whether  the 
snow  at  the  pass  half  a  mile  ahead  will  be  hard  enough  to 
hold  the  burros  in  the  morning,  and  whether  we  can  ''make 
a  get-away"  before  it  softens  in  the  rising  sun.  H  unable 
to  make  the  pass,  shall  we  scout  out  a  road  over  the 
shoulder  at  the  right  or  at  the  left?  Will  it  freeze  to- 
night as  it  did  last  night  out  on  the  desert,  and  may  be 
expected  on  the  pass?  What  about  tomorrow's  trail? 
Will  it  be  good  or  bad  up  the  slope  and  over  the  Divide 
and  will  we  make  the  deserted  village  by  camping  time? 

These  and  a  hundred  similar  questions  take  up  the 
time  till  the  fire  dies  down  from  neglect,  the  shadows  be- 
gin to  creep  back  from  the  forest,  the  cool  of  the  evening 
is  on  the  company  with  a  deep  drowsiness,  and  nothing 
further  invites  but  the  sleeping-bag  or  the  bed-roll.  So 
the  Psalm  is  read  by  the  flickering  light  and  the  day  ends 
at  dusk,  and  early  darkness  finds  us  all  in  care-free  slum- 
ber such  as  only  children  and  trampers  know,  lulled  by 
the  continual  music  of  the  mountain  stream  a  rod  away, 
which,  like  Tennyson's  brook,  goes  on  and  on  forever. 
No  wonder  that  five  o'clock  finds  everybody  rested,  as 
rest  is  not  known  except  on  the  trail,  and  ready  to  begin 
a  new  day,  anxious  to  be  off  before  the  snow  softens  on 
the  pass  or  the  heat  of  the  day  has  well  begun. 


IX 

BREAKING  CAMP 

In  the  early  morning  the  camp  comes  to  life  with  a 
bang  and  at  the  first  sign  of  action  there  comes  floating 
up  the  valley  the  answering  heehaw  or  rather  "ee  aw" 
of  the  burros.  One  of  them  is  not  a  good  singer,  and  the 
best  he  can  do  is  a  fair  imitation  of  the  squeak  of  a  rusty 
hinge.  His  sides  go  in  and  out  vigorously,  however,  as 
if  something  worth  while  were  really  coming  of  all  his 
effort,  but  results  are  abortive.  The  camp  is  alive,  and 
the  new  day  has  fairly  begun. 

The  wranglers  build  the  cooking  fire,  then  saddle  the 
burros,  for  no  burro  can  be  tightly  cinched  at  the  first 
attempt.  He  will  swell  up  to  nearly  bursting  as  soon  as 
he  sees  the  saddle  and  pack  cloths  coming,  and  the  only 
way  to  beat  him  at  the  game  is  to  saddle  him  early  and 
then  catch  him  unawares  a  little  later  on  and  **cinch  him 
up  for  keeps,"  after  which  a  side  view  of  him  may  look 
more  like  that  of  a  wasp  than  of  a  humble  representative 
of  the  genus  Equus. 

While  breakfast  is  preparing,  the  tents  must  come  down 
and  either  be  folded  for  packing  or,  if  covered  with  frost, 
laid  out  in  the  sun  to  thaw  out  and  dry  off.  The  beds 
should  be  shaken  out  and  folded  or  rolled  according  to 
the  kind  of  pack  to  be  used,  the  duffle-bag  filled  and  tied, 

36 


BREAKING  CAMP  Z7 

and  the  ground  ^Yell  searched  to  see  that  no  piece  of  prop- 
erty is  left  behind. 

Immediately  after  breakfast  the  actual  packing  begins. 
First  the  tents  and  bedding  are  disposed  of  while  the 
dishes  are  being  washed,  and  last  of  all  the  kitchen  equip- 
ment— dishes,  stove,  oven,  and  tables,  if  that  luxury  is 
afforded,  as  it  may  well  be. 

The  details  of  the  pack  will  be  reserved  for  another 
chapter,  but  there  are  four  final  chores  in  the  breaking 
of  the  camp,  no  one  of  which  should  be  omitted.  The 
first  is  to  see  that  some  wood  and  kindling  are  put  in  a 
dry  place  for  the  next  traveler  who  may  come  that  way, 
perhaps  in  a  storm.  I  have  had  the  experience  of  starting 
a  fire  under  these  very  conditions  with  kindling  and  wood 
that  our  own  party  had  left  upon  the  spot  some  two  years 
before.  So  does  bread  that  is  cast  upon  the  waters  return 
after  many  days. 

The  second  chore  is  to  see  that  no  scrap  of  camp  rub^ 
bish  is  left  unburned  or  unburied  to  disfigure  the  beauty 
of  nature  and  offend  the  next  occupant  of  the  camp  site. 
The  third  is  to  make  certain  that  no  spark  of  fire  is  left 
to  make  trouble  for  the  forest  rangers,  and  the  last  is  to 
take  a  final  look,  insuring  that  not  so  much  as  a  steel 
tent  stake  is  left  behind. 

The  rule  of  the  trail  is  that  no  man  must  destroy 
or  take  more  than  he  needs  and  must  leave  the  camp 
with  everything  ready  for  him  w^ho  shall  come  after. 
If  a  camp  is  along  a  frequented  trail,  he  may  find  food 
and  cooking  utensils.  He  may  not  take  of  the  former 
except  in  distress  without  leaving  a  full  equivalent  of 
what  he  uses.  He  is  welcome  to  use  skillets  and  coffee- 
pot but  he  must  leave  them  clean  or  he  is  a  veritable  pariah 


38  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

among  campers.  After  its  abandonment,  a  camp  site 
should  show  no  evidence  of  occupancy  that  will  offend 
the  eye  of  the  most  fastidious,  or  betray  an  abuse  of 
nature's  bounty,  the  latter  having  special  reference  to  the 
care  of  young  and  growing  timber  and  the  evil  habit  of 
carving  trees,  disfiguring  rocks,  or  befouling  springs 
and  streams. 

Life  in  the  open  is  wild  and  free  but  it  has  its  natural 
limitations  which  all  right-minded  men  and  women  will 
observe,  and  nobody  is  so  thoroughly  disliked,  even  de- 
spised, in  the  mountains  as  the  picnic  type  of  camper  who 
has  never  a  care  for  what  he  does  or  leaves  behind  be- 
cause he  never  expects  to  come  that  way  himself  again. 
May  his  tribe  soon  vanish  from  off  the  earth! 


X 
THE  LAY-OVER 

As  already  noted,  it  is  well  on  the  second  or  third  day- 
out  to  "lay  over"  one  day  in  order  to  work  the  lameness 
out  of  the  legs,  revise  the  methods  of  the  camp,  repack 
the  stuff  as  experience  has  suggested,  and,  in  general, 
prepare  for  the  steady  life  of  the  higher  trails. 

Again,  from  time  to  time  later  on  a  lay-over  day  will 
be  convenient  or  desirable,  and  time  for  such  diversions 
should  be  included  in  the  general  plan.  On  the  trail,  as 
elsewhere,  bathing  is  a  duty  to  be  performed,  requiring 
here  special  preparations,  for  the  icy  waters  of  lake  and 
stream  are  not  only  forbidding  but  often  dangerous. 
Certain  washing  must  be  done,  and  beds  must  be  opened, 
sunned,  and  aired.  Besides  these  matters  of  necessity, 
an  occasional  camp  site  is  so  bewitchingly  beautiful  that 
one  wishes  to  linger  in  the  shade  of  an  especially  friendly 
grove  or  tarry  beside  a  particularly  attractive  stream. 
Here  is  the  place,  and  this  is  the  time,  to  combine  neces- 
sity and  inclination  into  a  lay-over. 

I  well  remember  one  such  spot  at  which  the  bulk  of 
the  family  washing  was  laid  in  a  long  pile,  a  rope  tied 
about  the  middle  of  the  bundle,  and  the  whole  heaved  over 
the  cliff  to  be  washed  and  rinsed  in  the  raging  torrent 
below,  as  sailors  wash  at  sea,  without  labor  and  withouf 

39 


40  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

price.  I  recall  groves  and  valleys  and  passes  v^here  the 
instinct  to  worship  was  so  stimulated  that  man  could  not, 
if  he  would,  resist  the  urge  to  adoration,  and  here  can 
be  found  in  these  favored  spots  the  primal  cause  of  the 
religious  impulse  in  primitive  man.  In  places  such  as 
these  the  camper  will  probably  linger,  perform  his  few 
unusual  duties,  and  fill  himself  with  what  nature  has 
to  give  more  completely  than  would  be  possible  were  the 
camp  site  utilized  only  as  a  stopping  place  at  night.  In 
one  such  place  our  party  has  camped  three  different  times, 
in  another  twice,  and  always  with  increasing  satisfaction, 
returning  to  the  old  spot  with  yearning  as  a  full-grown 
man  comes  back  to  his  childhood  home. 

It  is  in  the  lay-over  camp  that  certain  indulgences  are 
possible — a  little  later  rising  hour,  a  side  excursion  to 
valley,  gorge,  or  hilltop,  extra  seating  about  the  camp- 
fire,  retiring  nooks  worked  out  of  impenetrable  thickets — 
these  and  a  hundred  other  variations  from  the  daily  rou- 
tine will  suggest  themselves. 

Now  is  the  time  for  some  slight  change  in  the  menu. 
If  beans  are  to  be  cooked,  this  is  a  favorable  opportunity 
for  so  long  a  process.  Much  nonsense  has  been  written 
about  cooking  at  high  altitudes,  as  if  it  were  impossible, 
for  example,  to  boil  potatoes  at  ten  thousand  feet.  At 
any  height  likely  to  be  reached  by  the  tramper,  the  dif- 
ference in  cooking  will  hardly  be  noticed,  except  that  a 
little  extra  time  is  required  in  boiling. 

The  near-by  snow-bank  can  be  utilized  for  the  making 
of  ices  and  it  is  even  better  than  the  stream  for  the 
hardening  of  jello.  If  the  season  is  right,  berries  can  be 
found ;  and,  all  in  all,  the  lay-over  will  be  acceptable. 

One  day  is  enough,  and  by  the  next  the  company  will 


V.     Lakes  Like  Mirrors  Set  in  the  Laxd-^caie. 


THE  LAY-OVER  41 

be  ready  to  go  ahead  for,  after  all,  the  spirit  of  adventure 
is  uppermost  and  the  desire  for  action  and  constant  change 
is  on  all  the  company,  except  perhaps  the  burros,  though 
the  more  they  work  the  better  they  behave. 

And  so  it  goes  to  the  end  of  the  trip.  Every  day  is 
different,  and  the  moving  panorama  of  water,  timber, 
scenery,  and  the  changing  moods  of  nature  afford  variety 
experienced  nowhere  else  as  in  the  mountains.  When  on 
the  trail  these  details  so  overlap  and  merge  together  that 
few  distinct  impressions  are  created,  but  afterwards,  on 
review,  each  stands  out  by  itself  a  distinct  and  impressive 
entity,  almost  sentient  in  its  influence. 


XI 
THE  MOUNTAIN  WATERS 

The  higher  mountains  abound  with  water,  great  quan- 
tities of  it,  tumbling  down  every  canyon,  streaming  over 
almost  perpendicular  walls,  and  trickling  from  seams 
and  crevices  at  every  hand,  although  there  are  dry  sides 
wherever  the  strata  tilt  in  the  opposite  direction. 

This  abundance  of  water  comes  almost  entirely  from 
melting  snows,  for  aside  from  an  occasional  cloudburst, 
most  summer  showers  in  the  higher  levels  are  insig- 
nificant. However,  the  quantity  is  unaccountable  when 
compared  w-ith  the  snow  fields  whose  actual  extent  is 
dwarfed  by  the  vast  expanse  of  mountainside,  whole 
townships  of  it  lying  bare  and  gray  in  the  sunlight. 

Snow  w^ater  seems  to  behave  like  no  other  I  have  ever 
known.  Emerging  from  an  ice  field,  turbid  and  milky,  it 
soon  clears  and  by  the  time  it  has  become  a  torrent  it 
flows  with  a  peculiar  greenish-glassy  luster,  half  liquid, 
half  crystal,  that  marks  it  anywhere  as  coming  from  the 
snow  fields.  So  restless  is  its  energy  as  it  hastens  over 
the  rocks  and  around  obstructions  that  it  appears  to  be 
possessed  of  a  kind  of  intelligent  purpose  to  get  on  and 
out  of  the  country. 

Opposed,  as  it  frequently  is,  by  bluffs  and  turns  it 
cannot  conquer,  it  lashes  itself  into  foam  wherever  it  is 

42 


THE  MOUNTAIN  WATERS  43 

balked,  then  hurries  on  as  if  to  make  up  for  time  that 
was  lost.  Everywhere  the  beds  of  streams  are  filled  with 
bowlders  sent  tumbling  and  bumping  and  booming  against 
their  neighbors  from  time  to  time  by  the  sheer  weight 
of  rushing  water — reason  enough  why  experienced 
travelers  keep  out  of  the  larger  mountain  streams  where 
death  awaits  the  unwary. 

All  this  is  music  sweet  to  the  heart  of  the  experienced 
camper,  and  as  the  torrent  rushes  by  his  tent  at  night  or 
his  sleeping-bag  out  under  the  stars,  he  feels  in  his  very 
soul  that  this  continued  swishing  roar  of  rushing  waters 
is  the  great  voice  of  Mother  Nature  lulling  him  to  rest 
upon  her  bosom.  Perforce  he  sleeps  the  sleep  of  child- 
hood, even  the  busy  man  of  a  thousand  cares,  and  he 
wakes  w4th  the  rising  sun  a  new  creature  in  a  new 
creation. 

The  streams  are  low  in  the  morning  because  the  chill 
of  night  has  checked  the  thawing  of  the  snows,  but  with 
the  rising  of  the  morning  sun,  the  waters  swell  again 
and  towards  mid-afternoon  they  will  reach  their  height. 
A  muddy  river  indicates  a  cloudburst  or  landslide  higher 
up,  but  so  heavy  is  the  material  and  so  powerful  the 
current  that  the  most  turbid  of  steams  will  clear  in  a  few 
hours,  returning  quickly  to  the  customary  glassy  appear- 
ance and  inviting  flow  as  it  swings  around  the  bend  and 
tumbles  madly  down  the  gorge. 

When  this  snow  water  from  a  thousand  silver  rills, 
slipping  down  the  higher  peaks,  gathers,  as  it  sometimes 
does,  into  one  of  the  few  little  mountain  lakes,  and  quiets 
down  before  beginning  its  final  turbulent  journey,  it  is 
so  still  and  so  clear  that  it  seems  the  emblem  of  eternal 
rest;  for  this  is  the  land  of  the  sky-blue  waters  beside 


44  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

which  all  other  is  turbid  and  yellow  and  common.  These 
little  mountain  lakes,  encountered  unexpectedly  beside 
the  trail,  look  not  so  much  like  bodies  of  water  as 
like  so  many  mirrors  set  in  the  landscape,  reflecting  and 
doubling  the  glories  not  only  of  mountain  peaks  rising 
in  the  distance  but  of  every  tree  and  shrub  and  flower 
that  grows  upon  the  brink.  Blessed  be  the  mountain 
waters,  whether  in  motion  or  at  rest!  Instinctively  we 
kneel  to  drink  from  cup  or  hand  or  hat,  or  better  yet 
to  dip  the  face  into  the  very  substance  of  the  limpid  glory. 

The  camper  soon  comes  to  regard  the  water  as  his 
special  friend  and  he  drinks  of  it  abundantly.  The  cup 
that  hangs  from  his  belt  is  requisitioned  at  almost  every 
turn,  and  the  marvel  is  that  one  can  drink  so  much  with 
satisfaction.  The  tramper  falls  regularly  to  the  tempta- 
tion, if  for  no  other  reason  than  that  so  much  that  is 
good  seems  going  to  waste. 

Here,  too,  abide  the  fish  he  often  entices  into  his  net 
by  skilful  cast  of  line.  Finally,  it  is  the  stream  that 
points  the  way  and  carves  out  the  road  whereby  the 
traveler  may  reach  the  higher  levels.  Water  is  a  constant 
and  untiring  friend  to  the  tramper,  and  when  it  begins 
to  fail  as  the  summer  advances,  he  feels  that  an  old  friend 
is  slipping  away,  and  it  is  time  for  him  to  fold  his  tents 
and  depart  for  the  ordinary  haunts  of  man.  In  the 
desert  or  on  the  dry  side  of  a  mountain  it  may  be  neces- 
sary to  scout  for  water.  In  this,  as  in  following  a  blind 
trail,  a  kind  of  sixth  sense  seems  to  develop.  Just  as  a 
broken  twig  or  a  bit  of  bark  or  wood  scuffed  off  a  rotting 
log  or  even  a  peculiar  lay  of  the  loose  stones  will  serve 
to  betray  the  road,  so  the  camper  scouting  for  water  will 
learn  to  seize  on  the  most  insignificant  indications.     A 


THE  MOUNTAIN  WATERS  45 

tree  in  a  dry  place  or  some  tufts  of  unusually  long  grass 
will  suggest  that  a  little  digging  may  strike  moisture, 
and  a  suspicious  ledge  of  rocks  will  often  shelter  a  spring 
that  is  inconspicuous  because  its  scanty  waters  so  quickly 
sink  away. 

No  joy  of  the  chase  can  equal  the  satisfaction  of  the 
hunter  after  water  when  he  has  once  found  an  ice-cold 
spring  in  a  dry  place.  No  wonder  water  plays  so  large 
a  part  in  the  imagery  of  the  Old  Testament  where  writers 
living  in  the  mountains  and  the  deserts  knew  well  the 
meaning  of  a  well  of  water  in  a  weary  land  and  of  green 
pastures  beside  running  brooks. 


XII 
THE  TIMBER 

In  the  fastnesses  of  the  higher  mountains  will  be  found 
the  final  retreat  of  the  splendid  timber  growth  that 
once  covered  so  large  a  part  of  the  North  American 
continent.  Here,  in  solitary  sublimity,  the  great  forest 
makes  its  last  stand  against  the  encroachments  of  civiliza- 
tion with  its  ax  and  plow,  changing  the  face  of  nature  to 
comply  with  the  ideals  and  purposes  of  mankind  com- 
mercialized. 

From  foothills  to  timber  line,  which  ranges  from  eight 
to  twelve  thousand  feet  according  to  latitude,  moisture, 
and  exposure,  the  mountains  are  clothed  with  a  dense 
growth  of  evergreens,  except  only  where  the  ranchman 
has  carved  out  a  clearing  or  where  fire,  that  great  enemy 
of  the  evergreen  tree,  has  ravaged  the  hillsides,  fanned 
and  carried  up  the  slopes  by  the  wind  that  bursts  into  fury 
the  moment  a  general  conflagration  starts. 

The  lightning  that  plays  freely  in  the  higher  levels  is 
a  fertile  source  of  uncontrollable  fires,  and  in  all  the 
national  preserves,  the  foresters'  watch-towers  planted  on 
the  highest  points  command  views  of  the  country  for 
miles  around.  The  smallest  smoke  is  a  call  to  duty.  The 
traveler  is  at  first  surprised  to  find  here  and  there  beside 
the  trail,  even  in  the  wildest  wilderness,  little  square  up- 

46 


THE  TIMBER  47 

standing  boxes  with  a  notice  nailed  on  the  door,  inviting 
the  passer-by  to  break  the  lock  in  case  of  fire  and  make 
use  of  the  ax  and  shovel  he  will  find  to  stop  the  impending 
conflagration  while  yet  it  can  be  controlled.  By  measures 
such  as  these,  coupled  with  eternal  vigilance,  the  Forestry- 
Service  is  controlling  fire  with  marvelous  success,  and 
useful  timber  is  rapidly  increasing  its  growth.  However, 
immense  tracts  were  burned  over  long  before  we  adopted 
measures  of  foresight  in  the  case  of  our  timber,  and  here 
the  evergreen  is  being  replaced  by  the  rapidly  growing, 
but  short-lived,  aspen. 

The  camper  blesses  both  evergreen  and  aspen  for 
either  makes  an  ideal  shelter  for  the  camp  sites,  but  only 
a  tenderfoot  would  pitch  his  tent  in  close  proximity  to 
a  full-grown  tree  of  any  kind  lest  a  sudden  storm  uproot 
it. 

In  most  places  the  evergreen  and  the  deciduous  are 
freely  mixed,  and  both  are  valuable  to  the  camper  not 
only  for  poles  and  shelter  but  for  camp-fire  and  for 
sturdy  support  to  his  tents.  The  choicest  wood  for  cook- 
ing is  from  the  smaller  aspen,  two  or  three  inches  in 
diameter,  that  has  died  and  fallen  down.  The  same 
timber  makes  the  best  poles,  being  light,  strong,  and  free 
from  pitch,  which  latter  the  camper  soon  learns  to  avoid, 
not  only  for  its  disagreeable  stickiness  but  for  its  smoke 
and  its  certainty  of  melting  down  the  cooking  jack. 
Small  dead  evergreens,  still  standing,  make  the  best 
camp-fire  wood,  while  the  deadened  lower  limbs  of  the 
larger  trees  are  good  for  any  kind  of  a  fire,  especially 
for  baking  in  the  reflector  oven. 

The  camper  only  partially  appreciates  the  timber  until 
he  has  been  obliged  to  make  camp  in  the  open  desert 


48  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

with  not  a  leaf  to  break  the  fierceness  of  the  sun  upon 
his  tent  and  not  a  thing  to  burn  but  sagebrush,  although, 
when  he  learns  to  chop  it  fine  and  dig  a  hole  for  his  fire, 
he  can  get  on  very  well  with  a  sagebrush  fire  in  most 
kinds  of  cooking.  Even  so,  he  will  come  back  to  the 
timber  at  the  first  opportunity  as  to  a  friend  of  his  child- 
hood, for  it  is  only  in  the  timber  that  the  camp  can  be 
made  really  homey  and  comfortable. 

The  tramper  is  conscious  of  the  general  steepness  of 
things  mountainous,  not  only  by  the  aneroid  barometer 
and  his  probable  shortness  of  breath,  but  more  especially 
by  the  angle  at  which  the  timber  grows,  an  angle  so  sharp 
as  to  make  all  the  trees  seem  to  be  leaning  over  back- 
wards to  keep  from  falling  down  the  hill,  giving  to  the 
forest  floor  a  strangely  slanting  appearance,  as  seen  from 
underneath  the  trees. 

Nearing  the  limits  known  as  the  timber  line,  the  forest 
floor  merges  into  the  open,  the  trees  changing  not  so 
much  in  species  as  in  size,  being  suddenly  dwarfed,  so 
that  within  a  belt  of  six  or  eight  hundred  feet  the  growth 
is  reduced  from  the  diameter  of  a  good-sized  saw  log 
and  a  height  of  seventy-five  or  one  hundred  feet  to  hard 
and  scrubby  stuff  that  is  scarcely  the  height  of  a  man, 
yet  it  represents  perhaps  a  hundred  years  of  battling 
with  the  elements  for  barely  a  chance  to  live. 

If  near  a  pass  or  other  wild  exposure,  all  the  limbs 
will  be  upon  one  side  of  the  dwarfed  and  crooked  trunk, 
giving  a  curiously  wind-swept  appearance  and  often,  in 
dry  regions,  this  exposed  and  scrubby  growth  will  be  cut 
into  and  actually  whittled  away  by  flying  bits  of  sand, 
so  that  with  timber,  as  with  rocks,  all  sorts  of  fantastic 
shapes  and  twistings  may  be  found. 


THE  TIMBER  49 

It  is  fashionable  to  rave  over  the  virtues  of  a  bed  made 
of  evergreen  boughs.  Somebody  has  been  brave  enough 
to  remark  in  this  connection  that  other  things  can  be 
done  which  do  not  pay.  That  is  to  say,  it  is  possible  to 
make  a  bed  of  boughs  but  it  is  a  long  and  tedious  task, 
this  shingling  with  hundreds  of  little  sprays  in  such  way 
as  to  cover  all  the  stems  and  make  the  surface  soft  and 
smooth.  The  labor  and  the  expense  of  material  are 
justified,  if  at  all,  only  as  a  last  expedient  in  a  permanent 
camp.  For  a  single  night,  almost  any  mountaineer  would 
prefer  to  roll  an  old  log  out  of  its  bed  and  ensconce 
himself  in  its  place  to  undertaking  the  labor  of  making 
a  bed  of  boughs. 

Timber  is,  next  to  water,  the  greatest  friend  of  man 
on  the  trail.  It  shelters,  warms,  and  cheers,  and  the 
camper  everywhere  looks  on  the  trees  as  his  best  pro- 
tector. If  he  is  above  the  timber  line  when  a  storm  is 
gathering,  he  descends  at  once  and  builds  a  fire  where 
he  can  weather  anything  but  a  cataclysm.  The  experi- 
enced mountaineer  is  never  caught  without  matches,  nor 
is  he  ever  far  from  the  means  of  building  a  fire. 

Some  poet  should  sing  to  the  mountain  timber,  not  so 
much  to  the  individual  tree,  though  it  is  frequently 
worthy  of  his  praise,  but  more  especially  to  the  forest 
as  a  whole,  the  oldest  child  of  the  higher  slopes,  twin 
brother  to  the  waters  and  friend  extraordinary  to  the 
wandering  camper. 


XIII 
A  STORM  ON  THE  PASS 

The  pass  with  its  cross  currents  is  the  birthplace  of 
the  storm.  It  may  come  as  rain  on  one  side  of  the  ridge 
and  on  the  other  turn  to  snow,  which  is  the  bane  of  the 
tramper,  sending  him  scurrying  down  to  timber  line.  It 
may  drizzle  all  night,  making  it  necessary  to  keep  fire 
in  front  of  the  tent.  In  the  morning  everything  may  be 
covered  with  ice  and  the  valley  below  be  filled  with  fog, 
to  be  lifted  only  by  the  rising  sun  in  great  rolling  billows 
like  cumulus  clouds,  as  they  really  are. 

In  general,  however,  a  storm  on  the  higher  levels  is 
wholly  a  glorious  experience  to  the  camper,  even  the 
sight  of  a  lifetime  to  him  who  invades  these  unaccus- 
tomed solitudes.  For  the  pass  is  high  above  the  life 
and  activity  of  the  valleys  and  the  hills  below.  Here 
the  timber  has  been  left  behind,  the  rushing  torrent  is 
not  yet  born,  and  only  the  silent  rivulet  from  the  snow 
field  gives  hint  of  the  beginning  of  a  mighty  river.  All 
is  silent,  cold,  and  dead  on  the  pass  until  the  storm  king 
begins  his  revels,  and  then  is  the  traveler  treated  to  a 
display  that  suggests  the  gods  at  work  with  the  elemental 
forces  that  make  and  remake  worlds. 

From  such  a  spot,  the  writer  once  looked  down 
upon  no  fewer  than  seven  separate  storms  in  as  many 

50 


A  STORM  ON  THE  PASS  51 

canyons— one  of  hail,  one  of  snow,  the  others  of  rain, 
with  lightnings  playing  here  and  there  and  a  rainbow 
lying  horizontal  in  the  valley  some  fifteen  hundred  feet 
below.  Standing  in  the  sunlight  in  the  midst  of  all  this 
revel  but  far  above  it,  one  instinctively  bares  his  head 
and  repeats  again  that  age-old  question,  ''What  is  man 
that  Thou  art  mindful  of  him?" 

It  may  be  that  one  great  central  storm  is  moving  across 
the  pass  attended  by  outrider  clouds  upon  the  different 
peaks  and  ridges,  for  all  the  country  is  spread  out  to  view 
for  fifty  miles  around.  Some  of  these  outriders  may  be 
glorified  almost  continually  by  lightning  flashes  that  illu- 
minate the  snowy  peaks  with  an  unearthly  brilliancy  as, 
like  golden  chariots,  the  stately  company  of  clouds  sweeps 
majestically  across  the  sky  bathed  in  the  slanting  rays 
of  the  descending  sun,  for  the  late  afternoon  or  early 
evening  is  the  favorite  time  for  cloud  displays. 

A  storm,  as  commonly  seen  by  us  groundlings,  seems 
to  be  a  thing  of  the  upper  air  and  far  above  us;  but  a 
storm  on  the  pass  twelve  thousand  feet  or  so  above  the 
sea  is  not  only  among  the  very  peaks  themselves  but  it 
is  at,  or  above,  the  level  where  most  of  our  storms  are 
born.  The  observer  on  the  pass,  therefore,  seems  to  be 
in  the  very  heart  of  it  all,  for  as  the  lightnings  play  around 
him,  the  storm  is  truly  a  part  of  the  landscape,  indeed  of 
the  very  atmosphere.  The  lightnings  crack  about  one's 
ears  as  in  recognition  of  his  presence,  and  the  thunders 
roll  along  the  ground  as  if  giants  were  out  bowling  down 
the  valleys. 

Such  a  storm  on  the  pass  means  a  glorious  sunset  after 
the  lightnings  have  ceased  to  play  and  the  rumblings 
have  died  away.     Sunset  in  the  mountains  is  always  an 


52  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

impressive  sight,  for  nowhere,  not  even  on  the  deepest  of 
deep  blue  seas,  does  the  going  down  of  the  sun  rival  that 
glorious  display  of  rich  and  changing  color  that  char- 
acterizes the  mountain  sunset.  After  a  day  of  clear 
blue  skies  the  sun  will  set  behind  the  peaks  in  a  blaze 
of  red  and  yellow  glory  in  sharpest  contrast  to  the  intense 
cold  white  of  the  snow  on  the  higher  levels  and  the  deep- 
ening gray  shadows  in  the  foreground.  Out  on  the 
desert  the  browns  and  tans  of  the  landscape  and  the 
softened  blue  haze  of  the  distant  mountains  make  a 
background  for  the  sagebrush  gray  which  turns  the 
boundless  waste  into  bewitching  beauty  that  seen  even 
but  once  will  never  be  forgotten. 

It  is  at  the  pass  and  just  after  the  storm  king  has 

ceased  his  revels  that  the  sunset  is  at  its  best.    The  mists 

have  cleared  away  and  the  last  rumbling  thunders  gone 

to  sleep.     Great  masses  of  clouds  come  rolUng  up  from 

the  west,  dragging  across  the  pass  to  float  away  over 

the  valley  like  shining  chariots  of  gold.     Alive  they  seem 

until  the   growing  quiet  of   evening  gradually   subdues 

their  movements  and  the  descending  sun  that  seemed  to 

have  set  the  world  on  fire  softens  the  colors  as  in  some 

great  dissolving  view  from  gold  to  tan  and  then  to  that 

mellow  violet  haze  that  we  call  the  alpine  glow.     I  saw 

it  once  over  a  great  valley  lying  spread  out  below  for 

thirty  miles,  and  again  as  a  shaft  of  soft  blue-green  light 

flung  through  a  rift  in  the  clouds  as  if  it  were  a  highway 

let  down  from  Heaven  and  one  could  almost  see  angels 

ascending   and   descending   in   the   mellow   haze.     Who 

knows  what  Jacob  might  have  seen  out  there  in  the  hills 

some  four  or  five  thousand  years  ago!     And  no  wonder 

he  exclaimed  that  God  was  also  in  that  place. 


VI.     Above— A    Paradise,   Not  a   Solitide.     Below— The   Deserted 

Village  of  Tin  Cup. 


A  STORM  ON  THE  PASS  53 

And  then  follows  the  night,  out  under  the  stars  two 
miles  above  the  sea,  where  there  is  no  need  for  tents ! 
One  is  too  awed  for  sleep,  looking  straight  up  into  the 
heavenly  depths,  wondering  what  lies  beyond !  The  shim- 
mering moonlight  bathes  the  valley  with  a  mellow  glory 
that  rests  upon  the  hills  around  like  a  benediction  from 
above.  How  far  away  the  stars  look  and  how  witching 
the  silvery  light  that  seems  more  like  a  section  of  the 
milky  way  let  down  to  earth  than  anything  else  we 
mortals  have  ever  known.  I  saw  it  once  at  midnight 
shining  across  the  valley  on  the  great  face  of  Mount 
Massive  some  twenty  miles  away — brilliant,  glittering, 
glorious.  I  saw  it  again  from  the  pass  overlooking 
Taylor  Valley  after  the  storm  had  spent  itself.  The 
moon  and  the  stars  w^ere  out,  shining  with  a  scintillating 
brilliance  known  only  in  the  clear  cold  air  of  the  higher 
levels.  The  mists  had  settled  into  the  valley  like  a  great 
white  sea  of  foaming  waters,  shut  in  by  the  snowy  peaks 
fading  off  into  the  distance  some  forty  miles  away.  At 
two  in  the  morning,  after  a  stormy  sunset,  there  lay  the 
peaceful  vision  spread  out  below  like  an  enchanted  valley, 
uncanny  and  seeming  not  of  earth.  Such  is  the  moonlight 
of  the  mountains,  fit  finish  to  the  sunset  and  the  storm. 


XIV 
THE  DESERTED  VILLAGE 

Caution  needs  to  be  observed  in  depending  on  towns 
named  on  the  map  for  replenishment  of  supplies.  For 
example,  the  town  of  Emma  is  an  old  mill  site  which 
even  the  rats  have  abandoned  long  ago.  Dorchester 
figures  prominently  upon  maps  and  trail  marks,  but  its 
streets  are  grass-grown,  the  ''hotel"  has  neither  guests 
nor  proprietor,  and  the  only  remains  of  the  saloon  are 
a  battered  bar  and  five  or  six  cords  of  beer  bottles  stacked 
in  the  rear.  Independence  and  Rumley  have  been  aban- 
doned for  twenty  years.  Ivanhoe,  on  our  last  visit,  had 
four  inhabitants,  and  Busk  had  two,  while  other  pre- 
tentious names  stand  for  nothing  physical  but  stakes 
driven  into  the  ground. 

Ashcroft,  the  first  mining  town  in  the  country,  had 
at  last  account  one  inhabitant,  my  old  friend  Dan  Mc- 
Arthur.  Aspen,  a  dozen  miles  down  the  valley,  was 
the  successful  competitor  with  Ashcroft  and  Independence 
for  the  county  seat.  It  is  the  youngest  of  the  lot;  but 
lying  between  the  two,  it  ran  away  with  the  prize  by 
the  ingenious  device  of  playing  the  middle  against  both 
ends.  As  a  result,  Aspen  is  a  charming  little  town  with 
hundreds  of  the  finest  people,  excellent  shops,  and  a  good 
hotel,  amid  extensive  tracts  of  magnificent  scenery,  while 

54 


THE  DESERTED  VILLAGE  55 

the  two  rival  towns  are  dead.  This  town  is  a  good 
point  to  make  on  the  trail,  when  the  original  supplies 
may  be  somewhat  reduced  at  the  outset  except  as  to  milk 
powder,  dried  eggs,  and  such  standard  articles  that  can 
be  obtained  only  from  the  larger  supply-houses. 

The  coming  suddenly  on  a  deserted  village  causes 
mingled  feelings  of  anticipation  and  disappointment,  to- 
gether with  an  uncanny  conviction  of  one's  being  some- 
how out  of  place,  intruding  where  the  inhabitants  have" 
gone  away  for  business  or  pleasure  and  are  likely  to 
return  at  any  moment. 

We  have  reached  the  further  side  of  the  pass  and 
there  lies  the  little  village  spread  out  below  seeming  to 
offer  shelter,  cheer,  and  welcome.  Some  of  the  party 
hasten  on  in  the  gathering  storm,  while  others  stay  to 
bring  the  packs  along.  Dow^n  the  single  empty  silent 
street  the  scouters  w^ander,  past  open  doors  and  roofs 
that  are  tumbled  in.  There  is  no  answering  voice,  for 
no  man  has  lived  in  the  abandoned  cabins  for  more  than 
twenty  years,  and  the  stamp  mill  stands  unroofed  and 
with  rotting  machinery  and  tools  and  equipment  scat- 
tered about  as  if  the  men  had  but  just  gone  home  to 
dinner  and  would  soon  be  back  to  start  up  for  the 
afternoon. 

It  is  always  and  forever  the  same  silent  place, 
all  the  more  dead  for  having  once  been  alive  and  the 
abode  of  men  who  worked  and  gambled  and  swore  and 
loved  and  hated  as  other  men  have  done  since  the  be- 
ginning of  time  and  will  do  until  the  end. 

Nestled  in  its  amphitheater  of  snowclad  peaks  is  a 
little  weather-beaten  shanty  town  once  the  pioneer  in 
silver  mining.     We  near  it,  having  known  it  in  more 


56  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

prosperous  days,  and  think  to  renew  acquaintances.  The 
doors  seem  strangely  open,  the  familiar  streets  are  de- 
serted and  grass-grown.  No  loafers  enliven  the  *'hotel." 
Even  the  saloon  is  closed,  being  open  to  the  weather 
and  empty,  the  only  evidence  of  former  life  and  pros- 
perity being  some  cords  of  bottles  carefully  stacked  in 
the  rear.  One  man  and  his  dog  constitute  the  inhabitants 
now.  ''Lonesome?"  "No,  I've  got  my  dog;  besides 
there's  the  hills  just  the  same  as  ever.  But,  say,  friend, 
when  you  get  back  to  the  states,  you  might  send  me  a 
bundle  of  old  magazines.  The  winter  nights  ye  ken 
are  a  wee  bit  long  since  the  boys  have  gone  over  the 
Divide.'*  And  so  we  left  him,  standing  there  with  one 
hand  on  the  head  of  his  dog,  a  soUtary  remnant  of  a 
day  that  is  gone. 

We  came  once  almost  unexpectedly  on  a  newly  aban- 
doned town  of  many  houses  and  much  sign  of  recent 
life  and  prosperity.  We  had  been  tramping  all  day 
along  the  wildest  of  mountain  trails,  turning  occasionally 
to  admire  the  range  of  snowy  peaks  that  hemmed  the 
valley  in  and  seemed,  as  they  always  do,  to  close  up 
behind  us  as  we  followed  the  trail  that  led  to  the  pass 
ahead. 

Rounding  a  point,  the  village  literally  burst  on  the  view, 
for  there  it  lay  spread  out,  filling  the  great  amphitheater 
between  the  hills  that  until  recently  had  been  the  scene 
of  intense  activity.  Here  by  the  right  is  a  modernly 
equipped  schoolhouse.  A  little  further  down  is  the  town 
hall  with  the  stars  and  stripes  flying  from  the  pole,  and 
with  fire-fighting  apparatus  standing  under  the  shed  hard 
by.  Hydrants,  like  those  of  any  city,  showed  that  this 
was  meant  to  be  no  shanty  town  built  by  squatters.     It 


THE  DESERTED  VILLAGE  57 

had  clearly  been  made  to  stay.  However,  silver  had 
dropped  in  the  markets,  the  best  veins  had  run  out, 
some  prospectors  had  struck  it  rich  in  another  valley, 
a  mysterious  fire  had  wiped  out  the  principal  store,  and 
as  a  climax  of  disaster,  the  mail  stage  route  had  been 
abandoned.  Wherefore  the  inhabitants  acted  as  always 
under  such  circumstances — pulled  up  their  floors  and 
left,  going  over  the  mountains  to  the  more  promising 
town  in  the  neighboring  valley.  Some  locked  their  doors 
on  a  few  remaining  possessions  and  others  left  them 
standing  invitingly  open.  Only  about  a  dozen  hung  on 
where  hundreds  had  lived  and  hoped  before.  These  still 
had  hopes  in  a  new  lead  just  struck,  and  one  of  the  most 
hopeful  of  them  had  kept  the  flag  still  flying  over  the  old 
"town  hall,"  where  meetings  were  no  longer  held  or 
probably  ever  would  be. 

So  does  every  deserted  village  have  its  history.  Some- 
body will  linger  ten  or  a  dozen  years,  appropriating  the 
best  of  the  cabins,  but  finally  the  last  one  nails  up  and 
goes,  leaving  the  one-time  haunts  of  men  to  the  coyote 
and  the  cattle  that  follow  close  on  the  heels  of  the  miner. 

They  are  scattered  every^vhere  in  the  hills,  these 
pathetic  remainders  of  the  hopes  of  others,  and  we  come 
on  them  almost  without  warning.  Rarely  do  they  offer 
acceptable  shelter ;  and  when  they  do,  the  accommodation 
is  tinged  with  sadness  and  the  haunting  feeling  that  the 
rightful  owner  may  turn  up  any  minute  and  claim  his 
own.  Nor  is  the  feeling  tempered  by  the  probable  fact 
that  this  same  rightful  owner,  if  ever  there  was  one, 
has  been  sleeping  in  his  grave  for  some  ten  or  twenty 
years. 


XV 
THE  MOUNTAIN  SOLITUDES 

This  stock  phrase  implies  a  world  of  inactivity  like  the 
moon  that  is  dead.  The  term  is  coined  and  used  in  this 
relation  by  those  who  never  could  have  really  seen  the 
mountains;  or,  if  they  have  seen  them,  it  must  have  been 
from  many  miles  away  and,  knowing  them  to  be  unin- 
habited, they  have  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  up  there 
in  the  mountain  fastnesses  is  the  home  and  headquarters 
of  a  solitude  that  is  like  unto  death. 

Except  on  the  peaks  and  passes  everything  in  the  moun- 
tains speaks  of  Hfe  and  of  action.  There  are  trees  and 
shrubs  and  flowers  everywhere — whole  swamps  of 
columbine,  larkspur,  monk's-hood,  and  paint-brush  of 
a  thousand  hues,  with  literally  acres  of  roses.  The  tim- 
ber is  deliberate  but  the  flowers  are  riotous  in  their 
growth.  Water  is  in  motion  everywhere,  great  shadows 
chase  each  other  up  and  down  the  valleys  and  along  the 
mountainsides,  and  even  the  snow  seems  to  be  streaming 
down  the  peaks  and  slopes  and  to  move  about  as  the 
sunlight  falls  upon  it,  taking  new  shapes  each  day  as  it 
slowly  melts  away.  Everything  here  radiates  life,  energy, 
and  activity. 

On  every  hand  is  evidence  of  the  changing  landscape, 
and,  though  we  seldom  see  animal  life,  we  know  that  our 

58 


THE  MOUNTAIN  SOLITUDES  59 

brothers  of  the  wood  are  all  about  us,  as  their  recent 
tracks  abundantly  testify.  Elks  and  bears  and  lions 
and  bobcats  there  surely  are.  The  chipmunks  and  the 
camp-robbers  are  in  evidence  everywhere,  and  the  whistle 
of  the  marmot  in  the  rocks  and  the  calling  of  the  cattle 
on  the  range  below  testify  always  that  the  mountains 
are  inhabited.  If  perchance  some  night  a  coyote  or  two 
should  bark,  the  camper  will  be  ready  to  swear  by  all  that 
is  dependable  that  the  hills  are  full  of  the  noisy  little 
pests,  at  least  a  thousand  of  them. 

Every  year  is  witness  of  what  the  storms  have  done 
in  a  twelve  month ;  and  as  we  come  to  know  how  worlds 
are  made,  and  as  we  return  to  the  same  old  spot  year 
after  year,  the  changes  are  profound  and  seem  to  be  going 
on  rapidly  all  about.  Even  the  peaks  appear  in  motion, 
and  the  Hebrew  poets  spoke  truly  when  they  sang  of  the 
hills  as  dancing  for  very  joy.  The  mountains  speak 
everywhere  of  life,  of  action,  and  of  change. 

To  live  amid  these  changes  and  note  this  ceaseless  riot 
of  activity  is  to  feel  response  to  the  great  heart  of  nature. 
Except  for  the  rushing  waters,  everything  proceeds  with 
that  resistless  quiet  that  marks  always  the  greater  enter- 
prise. Even  the  tumbling  torrent,  so  noisy  when  just 
at  hand,  is  soon  lost  in  the  general  prospect  the  moment 
we  consider  the  mountain  as  a  whole.  It  is  then  that  de- 
tails shrink  into  insignificance,  even  the  flowers  and  trees 
and  rivers  merge  themselves  into  the  general  impression 
and  that  impression  is  one  of  stately,  resistless,  ever- 
changing,  but  deliberate,  action.  And  the  effect  is  good 
on  the  soul  of  man. 


Part  II 

OUTFITTING  FOR  THE  TRAIL 


XVI 
RESULTS  OF  EXPERIENCE 

Vastly  more  persons  would  get  into  the  mountains  for 
a  new  kind  of  vacation  if  only  they  knew  how  to  outfit 
for  a  moving  camp  and  how  to  set  up  a  new  home  every 
day.  Those  who  have  experienced  the  possibilities,  the 
pleasures,  and  the  satisfactions  of  Hfe  on  the  trail  would 
do  anything  within  their  power  to  induce  as  many  as 
possible  of  their  sedentary  brethren  to  enjoy  with  them 
what  is  literally  going  to  waste  in  the  higher  mountains. 

It  is  the  present  purpose  so  completely  to  describe  the 
necessary  outfit  that  the  veriest  tenderfoot  is  perfectly 
safe  in  starting  out  on  the  bohemian  plan  for  the  very 
heart  of  the  mountains.  While  different  persons  would 
choose  somewhat  different  outfits,  yet  the  possibilities  for 
variation  within  the  necessities  of  the  situation  are  not" 
great.  This  being  the  case,  I  shall  describe  in  full  the 
exact  outfitting  which  our  own  party  has  gradually  evolved 
after  a  good  number  of  seasons'  experience,  mainly  in 
leaving  behind  a  quantity  of  useless  trumpery  and  adding 
some  things  whose  need  is  discovered  only  by  experience. 

I  shall  describe  an  actual  outfit  for  a  party  of  four, 
which  is  an  ideal  number,  living  in  two  tents,  for  a  period 
of  thirty  days  with  no  opportunity  for  replenishment  of 
supplies;  and  I  can  assure  the  reader  that  this  will  be  a 

63 


64  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

perfectly  safe  set  of  specifications  to  start  with,  from 
which,  with  experience,  he  may  develop  his  own  additions 
or  subtractions ;  but  I  would  not  advise  snap  judgment  in 
advance  lest  he  encumber  himself  with  useless  baggage 
on  the  one  hand  or  find  himself  stranded  on  the  trail 
for  lack  of  some  necessity  upon  the  other. 

Without  further  introduction,  therefore,  I  shall  give 
the  list  of  food,  clothing,  tents,  bedding,  and  accessories 
which  we  have  found  by  actual  experience  to  be  suited  to 
the  needs  of  the  trail  for  a  party  of  four. 


XVII 
FOOD 

The  general  rule  for  *'grub"  is  this :  a  pound  and  a 
quarter  of  dry  food  for  every  adult  member  of  the  party 
and  for  every  day  of  the  trip.  Should  the  party  consist 
entirely  of  robust  young  men,  the  amount  should  be  in- 
creased to  approximately  one  and  one-half  pounds  a  day, 
but  the  daily  pound  and  a  quarter  is  a  perfectly  safe  family 
ration.  This  will  be  found,  in  the  words  of  mv  old  friend 
Dan  McArthur,  ''an  excellent  sufficiency,  any  more  would 
be  a  superfluity,  and  any  less  a  calamity." 

When  it  is  all  piled  up  for  packing,  the  four  tender- 
feet  will  exclaim,  ''My  goodness !  We  never  can  eat 
all  that  stuff!"  But  thirty  days  is  quite  a  long  time; 
besides,  a  new  set  of  appetites  will  develop  and  when, 
after  a  few  days  on  the  trail,  the  pile  begins  to  go  down 
with  promptness  and  dispatch,  a  feeling  of  fear  will 
possess  the  party  lest  the  supplies  run  out  too  soon. 

It  is  specified  that  this  shall  be  strictly  dry  food,  such 
as  flour,  meat,  fat,  and  dried  fruit.  If  potatoes,  canned 
fruit,  and  the  like  were  to  be  taken,  it  would  vastly  in- 
crease the  pack  without  in  any  way  compensating  for  the 
added  bulk  and  v/eight,  an  alternative  that  cannot  be  af- 
forded on  the  trail  where  both  bulk  and  weight  are 
serious   considerations.      In   case   supplies   are   available 

65 


66  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

along  the  trail,  these  luxuries  may  be  added  as  the  packs 
go  down,  making  due  allowance  for  the  difference  be- 
tween dry  and  fresh  supplies. 

"But,"  says  somebody,  "I  cannot  live  on  this  kind  of 
food."  Oh,  yes,  you  can,  and  like  it.  One  gets  so  hungry 
on  the  trail  that  he  eats  anything  and  everything  with 
relish,  even  avidity.  Besides,  one  of  the  purposes  of  the 
trip  is  to  set  up  an  altogether  new  and  different  style  of 
living  from  the  one  to  which  we  are  accustomed  at  home, 
and  this  is  part  of  the  good  of  it  all. 

Food  for  a  Party  of  Four  Living  Thirty  Days  on  the  Trail 

Bacon    20  pounds  A.pricots,  dried 5  pounds 

Ham    15  "  Raisins   4      " 

Salt  pork   5  "  Dried  corn  1  pound 

Dried  beef  2  "  Spaghetti   1      " 

Dried  milk 15  "  Corn-starch 1      " 

Codfish    2  '*  Crackers  in  tin  . . .     4  packages 

Dried  eggs 2  "  Jello    10       " 

Crisco    4  "  Bouillon  cubes 6       " 

Butter   2  "  Cocoa  , 1  package 

Cheese  2  "  Tea   %  pound 

Flour   40  "  Geo.       Washington 

Baking-powder     ...  2  "                   coffee    4  small  cans 

Corn-meal    5  "  Pepper   J4  pound 

Rice    2  "  Salt 1  small  sack 

Sugar 12  "  Sweet  chocolate  ...     1  pound 

Rolled  oats   2  "  Baker's  chocolate..     1      " 

Prunes 5  " 

Here  are  149  pounds  of  real  food,  besides  the  crackers 
and  accessories,  almost  the  exact  equivalent  of  the  pound 
and  a  quarter  for  each  daily  ration.  Some  variation  is,  of 
course,  entirely  feasible  as  between  bacon  and  ham,  for 
example,  though  bacon  keeps  better  than  ham.  Dried 
eggs  can  be  dispensed  with  but  they  are  a  great  advantage. 
Fresh  eggs  can  be  carried  in  wooden  cases  but  there  is 


vii.     Abuvl — The  Lav-over.     Below — Rkadv   for  the  Start. 


FOOD  67 

manifest  danger  of  losing  the  entire  supply  at  any  mo- 
ment when  the  burro  rolls  down  the  hill;  besides  they 
are  too  bulky  to  transport  if  it  can  be  avoided. 

The  butter  specified  is  only  for  the  start  and  as  a  kind 
of  easement,  for  it  must  be  packed  in  tin  and  will  not 
keep  many  days  at  best.  When  well  settled  into  the  new 
manner  of  living,  bacon  gravy  on  hot  biscuits  will  sub- 
stantially replace  the  need  for  butter,  because  bacon  and 
biscuit  are  standard  on  the  trail.  It  is  surprising  to  see 
how  everybody  comes  gladly  to  this  standard  ration. 

Lovers  of  rice  may  vary  the  amount  with  flour,  but 
corn-meal  does  not  keep  well,  nor  does  graham.  The 
dried  milk  is  standard  and  comes  in  five-pound  tin  cans. 
It  is  better  in  flavor  than  the  condensed  variety,  besides 
being  much  lighter  and  less  bulky.  Crackers  are  a  con- 
cession to  luxury  but  are  too  bulky  to  constitute  much  of 
the  ration.  Their  use  is  for  a  light  lunch  on  the  trail 
for  the  first  few  days,  but  a  cold  biscuit  is  a  good  sub- 
stitute and  raisins  are  better  still. 

Beans  can  be  carried,  but  their  proper  cooking  is  too 
long  and  difficult  to  be  recommended  except  in  the  ''lay- 
over." Potatoes  are  discarded  only  because  of  bulk  and 
weight,  for  all  talk  about  the  impossibility  of  cooking  at 
the  high  levels  covered  by  the  tramper  is  nonsense,  and 
as  the  pack  goes  down,  one  of  the  first  indulgences  will 
be  for  "spuds,"  if  perchance  a  town  should  he  along 
the  way. 

Prunes,  dried  apricots,  and  raisins  are  standard.  Other 
dried  fruits  are  to  be  avoided,  as  are  all  evaporated  vege- 
tables, unless  one  stands  ready  to  divide  his  rations  with 
the  burros  to  the  disgust  of  a  beast  which  esteems  paper 
napkins  an  extreme  delicacy.     Whatever  their  merits  at 


68  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

sea  level  with  abundant  time  for  rehydration,  evaporated 
vegetables  are  not  suited  to  the  trail.  We  tried  it  as 
tender  feet  in  the  interest  of  variety  before  we  learned  the 
uselessness  of  endeavoring  to  carry  all  our  living  habits 
with  us  over  the  mountains.  Great  variety  is  not  needed, 
for  appetite  will  provide  the  spice,  and  the  kinds  specified 
will  be  found  ample  from  the  point  of  view  of  variety 
as  well  as  amount. 

Chocolate-lovers  may  wish  to  increase  the  supply,  in- 
deed all  kinds  of  confections  are  acceptable  but  difficult 
to  preserve  in  the  pack.  Jello  is  especially  suited  to  pro- 
vide variety,  as  the  ice  cold  water  everywhere  insures  its 
perfect  consistency. 

All  food  not  put  up  in  tin  packages  should  be  in- 
closed in  cloth  sacks  to  insure  against  wastage,  and  small 
articles  may  well  be  packed  in  wooden  boxes  for  pro- 
tection. It  must  never  for  a  moment  be  forgotten  that 
the  pack  is  not  a  tender  and  careful  mode  of  transporta- 
tion and  things  must  be  prepared  to  withstand  consider- 
able pressure  from  the  cinch  and  possibly  from  the  effects 
of  a  tumble  down  the  hill. 

It  is  better  to  use  several  small  packages  of  tinned 
goods,  such  as  coffee,  rather  than  one  large  case  because, 
when  a  package  is  once  opened,  there  is  some  danger  of 
loss  by  leakage;  besides,  when  a  small  package  is  empty 
it  can  be  thrown  away,  reducing  the  pack,  which  is  always 
desirable. 


XVIII 

CLOTHING 

In  general,  light  weight,  open  weave,  woolen  garments 
are  far  preferable  to  cotton,  both  for  outer  and  under- 
wear, not  only  because  of  their  additional  warmth  in  the 
chill  of  the  evening  and  their  porosity  in  the  heat  of  the 
day,  but  for  the  comparative  ease  with  which  they  can  be 
cleaned  with  good  soap,  even  in  cold  water  which  shrinks 
the  goods  less  than  warm.  The  younger  members  of 
the  party  may  insist  on  cotton  underclothing,  but  woolen 
socks  are  standard,  not  so  much  for  warmth  as  to  insure 
against  sore  feet  when  they  perspire,  as  they  surely  will. 

Each  person  will  need  two  suits  of  light  woolen  under- 
clothing and  two  wool  shirts  with  roll  collar  and  necktie. 
Should  any  portion  of  the  trail  lie  in  the  open  desert,  one 
suit  of  light  cotton  underclothing  may  be  grateful,  but 
in  the  higher  levels  woolen  is  altogether  preferable. 

Three  pairs  of  woolen  socks  will  be  needed  for  each 
person.  The  difference  between  woolen  and  cotton  in 
the  protection  of  the  feet  is  almost  unbelievable,  and  a 
sore  foot  on  the  trail  is  the  one  great  discomfort  to  be 
avoided.  It  is  better  to  follow  the  wisdom  of  experience, 
wear  woolen  even  in  July,  and  bathe  the  feet  frequently 
in  witch-hazel  or  rub  with  lanolin  than  to  trust  to  luck. 

Knickerbockers  for  the  ladies  and  breeches  for  the  man 

69 


70  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

are  standard  wear  on  the  trail.  Skirts  are  taboo,  as  are 
also  ordinary  trousers,  coats,  and  such  abominations  as 
high-heeled  or  narrow-toed  shoes.  The  only  over-wrap 
needed  is  a  medium-weight  woolen  sweater  or  a  short 
jacket  with  waterproof  interlining  over  the  shoulders. 
Raincoats  and  heavy  sweaters  are  bulky  and  unnecessary, 
except  in  extremely  cold  and  rainy  regions,  for  a  slight 
occasional  wetting  on  the  trail  is  a  trivial  matter  that  can 
be  disregarded. 

One  pair  of  laced  waterproof  walking  boots,  fifteen 
inches  high,  with  "bellows,"  that  is  solid,  tongues  like  the 
Gokey,  with  an  extra  pair  of  laces  and  a  box  of  water- 
proof dressing  are  standard.  Rubber  heels  are  an  ad- 
vantage but  under  no  circumstances  should  the  soles  be 
hobnailed.  These  walking  boots,  though  heavy,  will  be 
exceedingly  comfortable,  and  their  flexible  sole  is  de- 
sirable, not  only  for  ease  in  walking  but  for  holding  to 
rocks  and  standing  wear.  The  boots  should  be  cleaned 
every  day  and  kept  well  oiled,  including  the  soles.  Old 
shoes  will  not  stand  the  wear  and  tear  of  the  trail  and 
should  not  be  taken.  The  feet  need  special  attention, 
and  the  best  is  none  too  good.  There  should  be  in  the 
party  at  least  one  pair  of  arch  supports  in  case  some  mem- 
ber should  spring  an  instep. 

Except  for  fishing,  hip  boots  are  necessary  only  on  ex- 
tremely unusual  trails,  and  one  pair  of  large  size  would 
be  enough  to  ford  the  party  over  any  stream  that  the 
burros  could  cross.    They  can  usually  be  discarded. 

One  light  felt  or  cotton  hat  with  not  less  than  a  three- 
inch  brim  and  a  pair  of  gauntlet  gloves  will  complete  the 
outfit,  so  far  as  ordinary  clothing  is  concerned.  If  flies 
or  mosquitoes  are  to  be  expected,  a  net  made  of  mosquito 


CLOTHING  71 

netting  and  worn  over  the  hat  is  a  grateful  protection; 
but  only  once  have  we  used  it  in  the  mountains. 

With  a  nightdress  or  suit  of  pajamas,  three  small  bath 
towels,  and  a  supply  of  handkerchiefs  for  each  member, 
the  party  will  be  provided  for  the  trail,  except  for  the 
ordinary  toilet  articles  which  should  include  a  steel  mir- 
ror and,  for  the  ladies,  a  supply  of  vanishing  cream  and 
talcum  powder  for  morning  u^e,  and  cleansing  cream 
for  night  as  a  protection  against  sunburn — all  carried  in 
a  special  bag  or  knapsack  that  can  either  be  dropped  into 
the  duffle-bag  for  packing  or  carried  outside  the  pack.  It 
may  be  worth  remarking  that  the  tenderfoot  on  her  first 
trip  will  insist  on  carrying  these  Lares  and  Penates  by  a 
strap  over  the  shoulder,  but  she  will  soon  learn  to  ''chuck 
ever}1;hing  into  the  duffle-bag  and  let  the  mules  do  the 
lugging." 

There  would  need  to  be  provided,  in  addition,  one  rub- 
ber-lined apron  for  each  person  who  cooks  or  washes 
dishes,  and  one  light  rubber  poncho  for  the  party  is  a 
convenience  in  case  of  a  rainy  day  in  camp,  though  it  is 
hardly  necessary. 

To  the  novice,  this  may  seem  a  rather  meager  outfit, 
but  it  is  sufficient,  and,  in  the  words  of  my  mountain 
friend,  "any  more  would  be  a  superfluity." 


XIX 

TENTS  AND  BEDDING 

The  widest  latitude  may  be  permitted  in  the  choice  of 
shelter  from  pup  tents  up  but  only  simple  designs  and 
small  sizes  are  permissible  on  account  of  space.  The 
house  tent  is  preferable  for  permanent  camp  but  not  for 
the  trail. 

The  best  tent  for  two  is  about  seven  by  seven  on  the 
ground,  two  and  a  half  feet  at  the  back,  rising  to  a 
ridge  six  and  a  half  or  seven  feet  high,  and  so  built  that 
the  front  can  be  either  tied  down  for  privacy  or  raised 
as  a  kind  of  porch  to  protect  from  sun  and  perhaps 
shelter  the  cooking  in  time  of  storm.  Such  a  tent  can 
be  slung  with  two  poles,  two  large  stakes,  and  a  single 
rope  that  serves  both  for  ridges  and  stays. 

A  very  good  tent  is  made  from  a  kite-shaped  piece  of 
canvas  strung  with  a  single  rope  with  two  short  poles. 
This  tent  is  suitable  for  shelter  only,  as  it  cannot  be 
closed.  A  small  extra  piece  of  light  canvas,  six  by  twelve 
or  thereabouts,  is  useful  about  camp  to  cover  the  cooking 
jack  in  time  of  rain,  to  serve  as  a  toilet  screen  on  neces- 
sity, and  if  carried  on  the  outside  of  the  pack  is  an  ex- 
cellent protection  against  a  sudden  downpour  on  the  trail ; 
for  such  a  piece  thrown  about  the  shoulders  will  easily 

72 


TENTS  AND  BEDDING  73 

shelter  half  a  dozen  people  when  standing  in  a  compact 
group. 

The  best  material  of  course  is  silk,  but  it  is  expensive 
and  easily  injured.  The  most  practical  is  the  so-called 
Egyptian  cloth,  a  fine  strong  cotton  that  is  both  water- 
proof, light  in  weight,  and  not  easily  snagged,  though 
any  tent  must  be  well  protected  in  the  pack,  which  will 
strike  against  sharp  rocks  or  broken  limbs  every  day  of 
the  trip. 

There  will  be  needed  for  pitching  each  large  tent  fifty 
to  seventy-five  feet  of  half -inch  manila  rope  of  the 
best  quality,  boiled  slightly  to  take  out  the  kinks  and 
soften  the  fiber  but  not  enough  to  weaken.  The  extra 
length  is  advisable  in  order  the  better  to  reach  adjacent 
trees  so  far  as  they  may  be  available,  for  they  are  stronger 
than  stakes  and  save  labor. 

There  should  also  be  two  tent  poles,  six  to  seven  feet 
long  according  to  the  length  of  the  ridge.  These  poles 
may  be  jointed  or,  better  yet,  made  of  hollow  tubing  and 
used  as  walking  sticks.  In  timber,  rough  poles  will  suf- 
fice, but  poles  are  not  always  available  and  the  tramper 
must  carry  all  of  his  absolute  necessities.  This  means 
also  one  half  dozen  fifteen-inch  and  a  half  dozen  eight- 
inch  steel  tent  pins  for  each  large  tent  and  a  few  feet 
of  extra  rope  for  reaching  to  trees,  for  which  purpose 
a  hank  of  clothes-line  or  forty  to  fifty  feet  of  quarter-inch 
rope  will  serve  perfectly.  In  practice  it  will  be  found  that 
pitching  the  tent  every  day  is  not  so  much  a  work  of  art 
as  one  of  speed  and  security  in  which  trees,  bushes,  rocks, 
and  everything  within  reach  is  utilized,  and  plenty  of  rope 
and  then  a  little  more  is  one  of  the  necessities.  Indeed, 
as  we  say  on  the  trail,  *'too  much  rope  is  just  enough." 


74  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

There  are  many  uses  for  ropes  and  cords  of  various  sizes; 
besides  they  wear  out  rapidly. 

The  standard  bed  is  the  waterproof  sleeping-bag  or 
the  army  bed-roll,  thirty  by  seventy-two  inches,  laid  flat 
on  the  ground  for  warmth.  The  cot  is  impossible  on 
the  trail,  not  only  on  account  of  its  weight  and  bulk,  but 
because  it  more  than  doubles  the  difficulty  of  keeping 
warm.  The  camper  soon  finds  that  the  breast  of  mother 
earth  is  his  best  foundation  for  the  bed,  insuring  the 
sleep  of  childhood,  and  he  need  have  no  more  fear  of 
''bugs  and  things"  than  when  traveling  in  civilization, 
indeed  not  nearly  so  much. 

Underneath  should  be  a  good  kapoc  mattress  made  to 
fit  the  sleeping-bag,  and  for  covers  either  a  four-  or  five- 
pound  wool  comfort  or  two  or  three  W'Oolen  blankets 
should  be  used.  Sheets  are  a  luxury  not  tolerated  on  the 
trail,  but  instead  the  comfort  or  the  inner  blanket  should 
be  provided  with  a  temporary  covering  of  green  or  gray 
cheese-cloth  or  other  light  material  which  can  be  changed 
at  the  end  of  the  trip.  The  blanket  should  be  folded 
double  to  fit  the  sleeping  bag  and  fastened  along  the  bot- 
tom and  up  the  side  with  a  half  dozen  four-inch  safety- 
pins.  When  so  installed,  the  sleeper  can  crawl  under  as 
many  thicknesses  as  he  pleases. 

Pillows  are  an  impossibility  unless  the  luxury  of  the 
air  pillow  can  be  afforded.  The  boots  must  be  put  under 
the  mattress  every  night  for  protection  against  porcupines, 
and  these,  with  the  day  clothing,  constitute  the  usual 
pillow  of  the  trail. 

An  air  mattress  is  desirable  from  many  points  of  view, 
but  it  is  heavy,  is  constantly  liable  to  puncture,  and  withal 
it  offers  some  lung  exercise  in  filling  at  the  rarefied  atmo- 


/J 


/     i 


TENTS  AND  BEDDING  75 

sphere  of  twelve  thousand  feet.  I  have  tried  it  and 
know.  That  is  why  we  now  use  kapoc,  which  is  even 
more  comfortable. 

The  best  ties  to  use  in  fastening  ropes  will  be  discussed 
in  another  chapter,  but  at  this  point  attention  is  called 
to  the  manner  of  driving  stakes,  which  must  slant  as 
nearly  as  possible  in  line  with  the  strain  of  the  rope  so  that 
the  pull  is  endwise,  not  at  an  angle  with  the  stake.  The 
novice  always  drives  the  stake  at  about  right  angles  with 
the  stress,  but  a  brief  trial  will  convince  him  that  w^hen 
it  is  almost  impossible  to  start  a  stake  by  a  direct  pull, 
it  comes  easily  when  the  pull  is  crosswise ;  indeed,  a  slight 
horizontal  kick  will  loosen  almost  any  stake,  and  this  is 
the  method  always  used  in  pulling  stakes,  whether  steel 
or  wood,  when  breaking  camp. 


XX 

COOKING  EQUIPMENT 

It  is  possible,  of  course,  to  follow  the  example  of  the 
prospector  who  gets  on  with  a  frying-pan,  a  plate,  and  a 
tin  cup,  using  his  pocket-knife  for  all  kinds  of  cutting  op- 
erations. But  we  are  providing  for  comfortable,  though 
simple,  living,  and  the  burros  may  as  well  carry  a  reason- 
able load,  for  the  more  they  work  the  better  they  behave. 
After  having  cut  out  all  superfluous  duffle,  we  may  as  well 
be  comfortable. 

All  dishes  must  be  of  metal.  Enameled  ware  is  pref- 
erable for  plates,  cups,  and  basins,  but  the  wash-dishes 
may  as  well  be  of  tin.  Paper  napkins  are  a  luxury,  but 
they  come  in  handy,  not  only  in  the  ordinary  way,  but  in 
cleaning  the  plates  and  skillets  from  superfluous  bacon 
fat  at  the  end  of  the  meal  preliminary  to  washing,  a 
practice  especially  approved  by  the  burros  which  regard 
greasy  paper  napkins  as  a  supreme  delicacy. 

Sizes  and  shapes  should  be  selected  to  nest  as  closely  as 
possible  for  packing.  For  this  reason,  the  open-handled 
cup  is  the  only  practicable  one  for  the  trail  and  it  can 
most  readily  be  carried  on  the  belt,  as  every  member  of 
the  party  will  like  to  do  with  his  particular  drinking  cup. 

There  should  be  provided  for  each  person :  one  six-inch 
plate,  two  cups,  one  saucer,  one  small  bowl,  one  table 

76 


COOKING  EQUIPMENT  77 

knife,  one  fork,  and  two  spoons.  For  general  use  there 
will  be  needed  for  comfortable  service :  three  plates,  four 
bowls  of  different  sizes  from  two-quart  down,  one  long- 
handled  fork,  one  long-handled  spoon,  four  tablespoons, 
one  teaspoon,  one  paring  knife,  one  good  butcher  knife, 
one  can-opener,  one  jack-knife,  one  kitchen  table  knife, 
a  flat  file  for  sharpening,  and  both  salt  and  pepper  shakers. 

For  cooking  there  should  be  provided :  one  large  (ten- 
inch)  frying-pan  with  heavy  bottom,  one  smaller  (eight- 
inch)  and  light  in  weight,  one  aluminum  pancake  griddle, 
one  five-quart  stew-pan  with  cover,  one  three-quart  stew- 
pan,  one  four-quart  kettle, — all  of  enamel  ware  and,  like 
every  other  kind  of  dish,  selected  to  nest  for  packing. 
One  small  flour-sifter,  one  measuring  cup,  a  biscuit  cutter 
without  handle,  one  canvas  water  bucket,  and  two  tin 
wash-basins  w^ill  complete  the  cooking  outfit,  while  two 
larger  basins  should  be  added  for  toilet  and  bathing  pur- 
poses. The  coffee-pot  is  ruled  out  as  impossible  to  pack 
and  accordingly  George  Washington  coffee  is  provided. 

For  baking,  a  Dutch  oven  will  serve,  but  a  reflector 
oven  made  of  bright  tin  can  be  obtained  from  the  supply 
house  for  a  very  small  sum  and  it  is  vastly  to  be  preferred 
for  most  purposes,  because  the  cook  can  see  all  that  is 
going  on.  The  only  disadvantage  of  the  reflecter  oven 
is  that  it  requires  a  generous  fire,  but  that  is  no  draw- 
back where  firewood  is  abundant,  as  it  is  almost  every- 
where in  the  mountains. 

A  steel  wire  cooking  jack,  twelve  by  twenty- four,  will 
be  needed  to  stand  over  the  fire  and  it  will  be  well  to  fit 
this  jack  with  a  thin  sheet-steel  top,  turned  up  one  inch  at 
the  edge,  from  which  sides  eight  or  nine  inches  wide  can 
be  hung  and  banked  at  the  bottom  with  dirt  to  confine  the 


7^ 


VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 


fire  and  protect  the  boots  of  the  attendant.  An  extra 
piece  of  sheet  iron,  twelve  by  eighteen  inches,  may  be 
bent  and  stuck  in  the  ground  at  the  back  for  a  kind  of 
chimney,  the  ''stove"  being  fed  from  the  end,  and  a  small 
piece,  twelve  by  fifteen,  can  be  set  up  as  a  door  to  regulate 
the  draft.  This  will  all  pack  flat  with  the  reflector  oven 
and  can  be  wrapped  in  a  piece  of  canvas,  a  yard  square, 
for  packing.  If  care  is  taken,  the  blackened  side  of  the 
canvas  can  always  be  put  on  the  inside,  and  the  bundle 
thereby  kept  clean  for  handling.      (See  Fig.  i.) 


I.    The  "stove"  as  fitted  with  sheet-steel.    One  side  pushed  back  to 

show  construction. 


XXI 

ACCESSORIES 

There  is  a  small  multitude  of  little  things  that  goes 
with  living  anywhere.  The  great  danger  is  that  one  or 
more  of  the  necessities  may  be  forgotten,  but  even  greater 
is  the  likelihood  of  taking  more  than  is  needed  and  being 
encumbered  with  many  articles.  Even  at  the  risk  of 
possible  repetition,  I  will  assemble  in  one  place  a  list  of 
those  accessories  that  will  be  indispensable  for  comfort- 
able living  on  the  trail,  and  it  includes  everything  that 
need  be  taken. 

Personal  toilet  articles  will  suggest  themselves,  but 
let  the  list  be  not  much  extended  beyond  such  obvious 
necessities  as  the  comb,  hairbrush,  toothbrush  and  paste, 
safety-razor,  steel  mirror,  hair-pins,  and  soap,  except 
that  the  ladies  must  include  cold  cream  as  a  protection 
against  sunburn  and  witch-hazel  as  a  soothing  balm  for 
the  feet.  In  this  connection  it  is  well  to  remind  the  ladies 
that  on  the  trail  cold  cream  is  a  better  friend  of  the  face 
than  is  water.  On  coming  in  from  the  trail,  a  cleansing 
cream  should  be  applied;  then  the  face  bathed  in  warm 
water  just  before  retiring,  with  another  application  of 
cream.  In  the  morning  before  setting  out,  vanishing 
cream  should  be  applied  with  plenty  of  powder.     If  these 

79 


80  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

directions  are  followed,  the  complexion  will  assume  a 
beautiful  tan.  Otherwise  some  several  thicknesses  of 
skin  may  peel  off  from  nose  and  face  and  ears,  a  per- 
formance that  is  neither  ornamental  nor  comfortable. 
Smoked  or  colored  glasses  are  necessary  for  the  snow  or 
desert,  and  are  useful  on  many  occasions. 

One  waterproof  duffle-bag  for  each  tent  is  sufficient 
to  carry  all  the  extra  clothing  and  other  articles ;  and  this, 
like  the  boots,  tents,  sleeping-bags,  cooking  utensils,  and 
all  other  camping  supplies,  including  clothing,  can  be 
secured  from  any  house  handling  sporting  goods;  such, 
for  example,  as  Abercrombie  of  New  York,  or  Von 
Lengerke  and  Antoine  of  Chicago. 

One  folding  canvas  table  for  the  ''kitchen"  and  one 
for  the  ''dining-room,"  each  with  an  oilcloth  cover  to 
be  rolled  on  a  piece  of  old  broom  handle  for  packing, 
are  not  absolutely  necessary  but  exceedingly  convenient. 

One  small  folding  camp-stool  for  each  member  of  the 
party  is  a  great  source  of  comfort  and  is  not  difficult  to 
pack. 

One  piece  of  three-ply  board,  twelve  by  eighteen  inches 
and  a  quarter  of  an  inch  thick,  on  which  to  cut  meat  and 
mold  biscuits  is  also  desirable  and  it  will  pack  with  the 
jack  and  the  reflector  oven. 

Five  or  six  yards  of  cheese-cloth  for  wash-cloths  and 
dish-towels,  six  or  eight  bars  of  soap  for  dishwashing 
and  laundry,  one  can  of  Dutch  cleanser,  one  five-cent 
scrubbing  brush,  a  length  of  clothes-line  and  a  package 
of  pins  are  necessities  not  to  be  forgotten,  though  bushes 
make  a  fair  substitute  for  line  and  pins. 

A  canvas  wall  pocket  with  many  compartments  is  con- 
venient  for  holding  the  various  small  articles  used  in 


ACCESSORIES  81 

cooking.    It  can  be  hung  on  a  tree  when  in  use  and  folded 
and  packed  with  its  contents  in  a  single  roll. 

One  dozen  boxes  of  safety  matches  should  be  divided 
and  kept  in  different  packs,  the  main  supply  at  least  in  a 
tin  box,  for  even  life  itself  may  depend  some  time  on 
a  few  dry  matches.  Each  member  of  the  party  is  sup- 
posed always  to  carry  matches  that  he  may  never  be  with- 
out the  possibility  of  making  a  fire. 

Each  member  of  the  party  should  have  a  good  jack- 
knife. 

One  first-aid  kit  and  a  bottle  of  ammonia  for  insect 
bites  and  one  of  witch-hazel,  both  in  tin  cans,  a  roll  of 
two-inch  adhesive  plaster,  a  good  antiseptic,  and  about 
two  yards  of  mosquito  netting  to  a  person  should  not  be 
forgotten. 

One  or  two  pairs  of  in-soles  are  advisable,  with  a  pair 
or  two  of  extra  taps,  a  few  nails  or  pegs,  and  an  iron 
last  for  fixing  repairs  and  on  which  to  hammer  down  the 
nails  that  will  continually  work  up  through  the  boot  heels. 
At  least  one  pair  of  arch  supports  for  the  party  is  a  wise 
provision. 

One  small  two-handed  ax,  two  to  two  and  a  half 
pounds,  kept  sharp  and  never  used  for  pounding  iron  tent 
stakes,  is  one  of  the  indispensable  features  of  every  out- 
fit. The  one-hand  ax  is  not  sufficient  for  the  possible  ex- 
igencies of  the  trail. 

One  brick  mason's  hammer,  really  both  a  hammer  and 
a  pick,  is  the  most  useful  single  tool  of  the  outfit,  being 
adapted  to  driving  in  stakes,  digging  trenches  around 
the  tent,  prying  out  stones  from  under  the  sleeping-bags, 
cutting  grubs,  and  doing  all  kinds  of  rough  work.  (See 
Fig.  2.) 


82  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

One  whetstone  for  the  ax,  one  four-inch  flat  file  for 
sharpening  butcher-knives,  two  pairs  of  cheap  leather- 
faced  gloves  for  handling  wood,  fifty  feet  of  extra  half- 
inch  rope  besides  the  packing  ropes  and  those  for  pitch- 
ing tents  with  a  hundred  feet  of  quarter  inch  should  be 
included.     Too  much  rope  is  just  enough. 

One  hank  of  chalk  line,  one  spool  of  linen  twine,  a 


2.    The  mason's  pick,  the  most  useful  tool  in  camp. 

small  quantity  of  linen  thread,  darning  yarn,  assorted 
needles,  and  a  few  buttons  will  come  in  handy. 

Three  or  four  strips  of  whang  leather,  two  or  three 
leather  straps,  one  inch  wide  and  three  feet  long,  for  re- 
placing broken  cinch  straps,  one  dozen  copper  rivets,  one 
dozen  one-inch  clout  nails,  and  a  bit  of  copper  wire  should 
be  tucked  in  against  needed  repairs  on  the  pack  saddles. 

Besides  the  individual  toilet  articles,  including  soap, 
there  should  be  added  three  or  four  packages  of  toilet 
paper,  preferably  in  the  flat.     Five  or  six  yards  of  com- 


ACCESSORIES  83 

mon  muslin,  six  feet  wide,  to  wrap  about  three  or  four 
trees  or  stakes  will  make  an  excellent  toilet  tent. 

Two  light  jointed  poles  for  each  tent  or  their  equivalent 
in  walking  sticks  must  not  be  omitted. 

One  aneroid  barometer  in  the  party  is  a  great  satisfac- 
tion as  indicating  altitudes,  but  it  is  not  a  necessity. 
Watches  are  superfluous,  but  some  member  of  the  party 
should  wear  a  pedometer,  and  there  should  be  at  least 
one  revolver  of  not  less  than  38  caliber.  Spy-glasses  and 
cameras  will  suggest  themselves  and  need  not  be  specified 
as  necessities. 

No  games  will  be  played,  though  a  handball  might  be 
tucked  in;  and  no  books  will  be  needed  beyond  one  or 
two  to  while  away  a  rainy  day,  and  some  selections  from 
the  Bible,  preferably  the  Book  of  Psalms.  It  is  strange 
how  the  mountains  turn  one's  thoughts  to  far-off  Pales- 
tine and  to  the  prophets  of  old,  who  were  among  the  first 
of  all  the  races  to  look  on  the  hills  as  friends. 

Maps  of  the  region  should  be  secured  through  the 
United  States  Geological  Survey,  cut  and  mounted  on 
cheese-cloth  as  already  described,  and  with  these  there  will 
be  no  danger  of  losing  the  trail,  at  least  as  to  the  general 
direction. 

Beyond  these  accessories  it  is  not  at  all  necessary  to 
go  and  the  great  danger  is  that  too  much  will  be  taken 
along  to  become  a  daily  burden  in  the  handling.  We  are 
not  moving  our  home  to  the  hills.  Rather,  we  are  setting 
up  a  new  manner  of  living,  and  that  is  part  ot  the  object 
of  it  all. 


XXII 
ROPE  AND  STRAP  CRAFT 

The  camper  does  not  need  to  know  much  about  ropes 
and  straps  but  he  should  be  cognizant  of  a  few  points 
before  setting  out  on  the  trail. 

All  packing  and  tent  ropes  should  be  half-inch  best 
manila,  boiled  slightly  to  make  pliable  and  to  take  out 
the  kinks,  but  not  enough  to  injure  the  strength.  Few 
laymen  realize  what  it  means  to  handle  ropes  continually 
or  how  fast  they  wear  out.  The  best  is  none  too  good 
and  bad  rope  is  taboo. 

A  knotted  rope  end  is  an  impossibility  in  camp  life. 
To  prevent  raveling,  it  should  be  wound  for  two  or  three 
inches  with  stout  linen  string,  and  the  process  is  as  simple 
as  it  is  easy.  Take  a  piece  of  small  stout  cord,  two  or 
three  feet  in  length,  depending  on  the  size  of  the  rope, 
fold  back  one  end  about  six  inches  or  thereabouts,  lay 
the  loop  upon  the  rope  to  be  wrapped  in  such  way  that 
the  short  end  projects  about  an  inch  and  a  half  beyond 
the  end  of  the  rope.  Holding  this  loop  firmly  upon  the 
rope  with  the  left  hand,  begin  with  the  right  to  wrap 
the  long  end  tightly  around  both  loop  and  rope,  commenc- 
ing about  a  quarter-inch  from  the  end  and  continuing  until 
something  like  two  inches  have  been  closely  covered. 
The  closed  end  of  the  string  will  then  be  projecting  an 

84 


ROPE  AND  STRAP  CRAFT        85 

inch  or  two  outside  this  wrapping.  Pass  the  free  end 
through  this  loop,  then  catch  the  short  end  of  the  string  at 
the  end  of  the  rope  and  pull  hard  enough  to  draw  both 
loop  and  the  free  end  together  well  under  the  wrapping. 
Both  ends  may  then  be  cut  off,  and  if  the  work  is  well 


3.    The  best  fastening  to  tree  or  stake. 

done,  the  wrapping  will  stay  in  place  until  the  rope  wears 
out. 

The  camper  may  use  his  choice  as  to  knots  except  that 
they  must  open  easily  by  a  single  jerk  of  the  free  end, 
even  when  wet.  The  most  convenient  knot  for  most  pur- 
poses is  a  kind  of  half-hitch  best  described  in  fastening 
a  guy  rope  to  stake  or  tree,  and  something  as  follows : 


86  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

When  the  rope  has  been  wound  around  the  tree,  instead 
of  using  the  ordinary  slip  knot,  which  allows  the  stay 
to  loosen,  the  best  tie  is  made  by  throwing  the  free  end 
over  the  main  rope,  drawing  taut  and  tying  back  upon 
itself  by  a  simple  loop  drawn  tight  as  in  Fig.  3.  This 
is  easily  opened,  whether  dry  or  wet,  by  a  single  jerk  of 
the  free  end.  The  same  tie  is  used  on  the  pack  and 
is  the  best  general  fastening  for  ropes  about  camp,  though 
the  double  loop  has  some  advantages,  especially  for  stakes 
and  roping  to  the  end  of  a  pole.  This  fastening  is  made 
by  laying  two  loops  one  above  the  other,  the  free  end 
dow^n  in  both  cases,  then  placing  over  the  end  of  the 
stake  and  pulling  taut  by  the  free  end.  Such  a  fastening 
has  no  knot,  but  it  will  hold  until  the  stake  comes  out  or 
the  rope  breaks. 

All  straps  for  saddle  and  cinching  should  be  of  medium 
thickness,  an  inch  to  an  inch  and  a  quarter  in  width  for 
burros  and  correspondingly  wider  for  horses,  made  of  the 
best  leather,  and  should  be  in  good  condition  when  start- 
ing out.  They  should  be  fastened  to  the  wood  of  the 
saddle  by  rivets  and  to  rings  either  by  stitching  or  by 
rivets.  Straps  should  be  fastened  together  with  the  cinch 
tie,  not  by  buckles  which  are  certain  in  time  to  cut  the 
leather,  and  such  a  cut  is  practically  beyond  repair  on 
the  trail. 

This  cinch  tie  is  used  for  fastening  a  strap  or  rope  to 
a  ring,  as  in  cinching  saddles,  and  is  made  as  follows : 
Put  the  strap  or  rope  through  the  ring  from  front  to 
back,  carry  the  free  end  around  to  the  left,  then  bring  it 
forward  across  the  front  at  right  angles  to  the  main  strap 
or  rope.  Tuck  the  free  end  through  the  ring  from  the 
right  side  but  this  time  from  back  to  front.     Then  tuck 


IX.    Abov-e — On  the  Trail.     Below — The  Finished  Pack, 
Diamond  Hitch. 


ROPE  AND  STRAP  CRAFT 


87 


the  free  end  under  the  loop  by  the  side  of  and  parallel 
to  the  main  strap  or  rope,  pull  taut,  and  the  knot  is 
finished.     (See  Fig.  4.) 

If  a  pack  is  to  hold,  the  saddle  must  be  cinched  ex- 


m 
m 


4.    The  cinch  tie  with  strap  and  rope.     The  latter  illustrates  the 
position  of  the  free  end. 


tremely  tight.  This  is  no  disadvantage  to  the  animal 
because  a  loose  saddle  means  a  sore  back  and  almost 
any  cinch  will  work  loose  and  will  need  to  be  tightened 
as  the  day  advances. 

Every  pack  saddle  has  two  cinch  straps,  one  on  the 
right  and  one  on  the  left,  each  connecting  with  a  cor- 


88  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

responding  ring  on  the  surcingle.  In  practice  it  is  the 
left  cinch  strap  that  is  loosened  in  unsaddling  and  this 
is  the  only  one  concerned  in  cinching  from  day  to  day. 

In  cinching  on  the  saddle,  the  cinch  strap,  being  fastened 
to  the  saddle  by  a  ring,  is  passed  through  the  surcingle 
ring  from  inside  to  outside,  pulled  taut,  tucked  through 
the  saddle  ring  from  outside  to  inside,  back  again  through 
the  surcingle  from  inside  to  outside,  and  pulled  as  tight 
as  is  considered  necessary.  From  this  time  on,  all  that 
remains  is  to  make  the  cinch  knot  in  the  upper  ring  as 
already  described;  that  is  to  say,  once  more  the  cinch 
strap  is  tucked  through  the  saddle  ring  from  the  out- 
side, brought  around  to  the  left,  carried  squarely  to  the 
right  across  all  straps,  tucked  under  the  saddle  ring  this 
time  from  inside  to  outside,  brought  down  under  the 
loop  thus  formed,  pulled  taut,  and  the  knot  is  finished. 

It  facilitates  the  tucking  of  the  strap,  particularly 
toward  the  last,  if  it  is  somewhat  narrowed  and  pointed 
at  the  very  tip. 


XXIII 

THE  BURRO 

Two  burros  are  the  minimum  for  a  party  of  four  and 
if  folding  tables  and  the  rather  generous  outfit  herein 
indicated  be  taken,  a  third  should  be  added — a  wise  pre- 
caution anyway  in  case  of  a  possible  accident.  Each  burro 
will  need  a  pack-saddle  and  a  saddle-blanket,  the  latter 
best  made  of  two  or  three  old  gunny  sacks.  Advance 
arrangements  for  burros  and  pack-saddles  should  be  made 
by  correspondence  with  the  prospective  place  of  departure. 

All  burros  are  good  animals  but  some  are  worse  than 
others,  and  most  of  them  will  try  out  a  stranger  to  see 
whether  or  not  he  is  a  tenderfoot.  This  trial  will  come 
soon  and  will  take  the  form  of  lying  down  with  the  pack, 
throwing  back  the  head,  and  emitting  a  series  of  moans 
that  will  deceive  the  very  elect  into  assuming  that  the  little 
beast  is  sick  unto  death.  However,  a  few  sharp  cuts 
over  the  ears,  the  only  sensitive  spot  on  a  burro,  will 
restore  him  instantly  to  most  excellent  health,  and  to  as 
high  a  degree  of  activity  as  he  is  likely  to  exhibit,  for  he 
is  an  animal  of  very  great  self-restraint. 

No  provision  need  be  made  to  feed  the  little  animals  as 
they  will  forage  along  the  way.  Nor  is  it  necessary  to 
record  any  further  instructions  about  managing  burros, 
for  they  would  be  too  voluminous  for  print.     Every  one 

89 


90  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

of  these  experiments  in  creation  is  a  law  unto  himself, 
especially  the  one  whose  peculiar  penchant  it  may  be  to 
untie  the  whole  bunch,  leading  them  off  on  the  back  trail 
to  hide  in  the  hills  should  they  hear  evidence  of  being 
followed. 

Because  of  the  peculiar  nature  of  the  burro,  there  must 
be  at  least  one  even-tempered  and  merciful  man  in  the 
party,  lest  murder  be  committed  in  a  sudden  moment  of 
blind  wrath  when  some  burro  deliberately  runs  between 
two  trees  for  the  evident  purpose  of  stripping  his  pack 
and  getting  away,  leaving  the  whole  party  stranded  with 
no  means  of  transportation.  Seriously,  the  burro  in 
general  is  the  personification  of  patient  endurance  and 
willing  service  and  the  better  he  is  treated  the  better 
he  will  perform,  except  that  all  burros  behave  better  when 
fairly  well  worked,  and  most  of  them  will  try  out  a 
stranger  to  see  of  what  stuff  he  is  made.  Nothing  is 
more  evident  to  the  old-timer  in  reading  Stevenson's 
Journeys  with  a  Donkey  than  the  fact  that  the  little  beast 
worked  her  master  both  day  and  night  and  for  every  step 
of  the  way. 

A  good  string  of  burros  has  its  leader,  who  expects  to 
go  ahead  and  must  be  maintained  in  this  official  position 
or  nothing  but  confusion  will  result.  The  constant 
scrapping  among  the  others  for  leadership  is  sometimes 
amusing  but  often  disconcerting.  In  a  well  organized 
and  well  conducted  expedition  the  same  order  will  be  fol- 
lowed day  after  day,  for  the  burros  need  neither  to  be  led 
nor  driven  but  will  follow  the  leader  and  keep  the  trail 
except  when  stepping  aside  for  a  moment  to  secure  a 
choice  morsel  like  a  thistle  blossom. 

It  is  a  safe  precaution  to  tie  one  or  two  of  the  fe- 


THE  BURRO  91 

males  at  night,  at  least  for  a  time,  lest  the  whole  bunch 
start  home  some  evening  on  the  back  trail  and  leave  the 
company  stranded.  Well  out  on  the  trail,  however,  a 
good  string  will  not  stray  far  from  camp,  for  they  are 
homey  little  creatures  and  camp  refuse  keeps  them  con- 
tented and  attached. 

A  "mean  bunch,"  and  there  are  such,  will  well  tax 
the  ingenuity  and  the  patience  at  times;  but  even  so,  the 
pack  animals  are  a  never-failing  source  of  entertainment. 
If  they  cannot  be  trusted  to  keep  the  trail,  the  party  would 
better  divide,  one  portion  going  ahead  to  prevent  a 
stampede,  the  other  behind  to  bring  up  the  stragglers. 

Most  of  the  technique  of  the  art  of  wrangling  burros 
must  be  learned  by  main  strength  and  experience,  and  at- 
tempts at  specific  directions  are  well-nigh  useless. 


XXIV 
THE  PACK 

Nearly  every  burro  will  ''swell  up"  as  soon  as  the  saddle 
cinch  is  applied.  He  should,  therefore,  be  saddled  before 
breakfast  and  taken  suddenly  in  a  moment  of  abstraction 
afterward  and  cinched  tight. 

For  each  pack  there  should  be  provided  two  panniers 
or  "kyaks,"  and  as  these  will  probably  not  be  procurable 
from  the  burro  man,  they  would  best  be  purchased  from  a 
supply  house  and  taken  along.  For  each  pack  there  should 
be  provided  a  waterproof  canvas  cover,  six  by  seven  feet, 
which  can  be  used  at  night  as  a  tent  floor.  There  will  be 
needed  for  roping,  one  surcingle  and  about  thirty-five  feet 
of  the  best  manila  half-inch  rope  for  each  pack.  There 
should  also  be  extra  rope  for  *'tying-out,"  because  at 
least  one  burro  will  need  to  be  tied  up  at  night  and  if  the 
''string"  is  an  assembled  gang  of  culls,  they  may  all 
need  tying. 

The  first  job  is  to  fill  the  kyaks  with  the  food,  dishes, 
and  other  small  stuff  not  adaptable  to  folding  like  tents 
and  bedding.  The  kyaks  must  be  so  packed  that  no  sharp 
corners  project  on  the  back  side  to  hurt  the  animal,  and 
they  must  be  so  paired  off  that  the  two  which  go  opposite 
on  the  same  pack  shall  be  of  approximately  equal  size  and 

92 


THE  PACK  93 

weight,  or  it  will  be  impossible  to  build  upon  them  a  pack 
that  will  ride. 

After  the  kyaks  are  hooked  on  the  saddle,  the  space 
between  should  first  be  filled,  and  this  is  a  good  place  for 
the  duffle-bag.  After  this  the  tents  and  bedding  are  piled 
in  a  compact  evenly  balanced  stack,  with  the  precious  tent 
well  protected  between  bedding,  and  over  all  the  canvas 
cover  is  spread  in  such  a  way  as  to  protect  from  rain  or 
snagging,  whatever  may  happen. 

Over  all  goes  the  rope,  and  the  tighter  it  is  the  less 
likely  will  it  be  necessary  to  repack;  indeed,  it  is  rare 
that  a  good  pack  becomes  dislodged,  even  if  the  whole  out- 
fit should  take  a  tumble  down  the  hill.  Either  the 
diamond  or  the  square  hitch  may  be  used  and  both  are 
described  in  the  chapters  immediately  following. 

Whatever  the  hitch,  there  are  four  rules  to  observe  in 
packing : 

1.  Nothing  must  hurt  the  animal. 

2.  The  pack  must  be  of  even  weight  and  bulk  on  op- 

posite sides,  that  it  may  be  perfectly  balanced. 

3.  The  weight  should  not  exceed  two  hundred  pounds 

for  the  best  burro,  a  matter  that  can  practically  be 
disregarded  in  camping  where  bulk  prevails  rather 
than  weight. 

4.  Everything  must  be  tight,  not  in  the  ordinary  sense 

of  the  term  but  extremely  tight  and  then  a  little 
more  to  make  certain.  The  tenderfoot  will  not 
know  what  is  meant  by  this  until  he  has  learned  to 
put  his  foot  against  the  animal  and  the  pack,  using 
a  good  degree  of  strength  both  in  cinching  and  in 
tightening  the  pack  rope. 


94  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

One  of  the  requirements  of  handling  camp  stuff  in 
packing  and  unpacking  is  to  keep  it  clean.  The  novice 
will  tumble  his  blankets,  sleeping-bags,  and  other  duffle 
in  hopeless  confusion,  drag  them  over  the  ground,  and 
probably  have  his  pack  animals  on  top  of  the  pile  a  few 
times  until  he  learns  to  keep  his  stuff  stacked  and  out  of 
the  way  of  packing  operations.  Until  he  learns  this,  he 
will  find  all  kinds  of  woods  dirt  in  his  bed  and  his  whole 
outfit  will  be  covered  with  dust  and  dirt. 


XXV 
THE  DIAMOND  HITCH 

Of  the  many  and  varied  devices  for  roping  a  pack,  the 
justly  famous  diamond  hitch  is  by  far  the  best  for  most 
purposes.  It  is  named  from  the  diamond-shaped  position 
which  the  rope  assumes  on  top  of  the  pack  when  the  hitch 
is  finished. 

The  aim  of  the  diamond  hitch  is,  first  of  all,  to  put  a 
rope  tightly  around  both  animal  and  pack  and  after 
that  to  throw  a  loop  around  both  the  right  and  the 
left  sides  of  the  pack,  binding  all  together  so  firmly  that 
the  animal  may  roll  over  without  seriously  disarranging 
his  load.  The  roping  is  done  in  such  a  way  that  in  un- 
packing, the  whole  device  will  unwind  by  merely  drawing 
out  the  free  end  of  the  pack  rope.  This  means  that, 
except  for  the  cinch  around  both  animal  and  pack,  the 
whole  is  put  on  with  a  series  of  loops  so  threaded  the  one 
through  another  as  never  to  make  a  knot  until  the  whole 
is  finished. 

It  requires  two  men  to  throw  the  diamond  hitch,  as  it 
does  for  most  other  hitches  in  common  use.  They  will 
be  designated  as  "right"  and  "left"  with  reference  to  the 
animal  that  is  being  packed. 

The  half-inch  manila  pack  rope  should  be  thirty  to 
thirty-five  feet  long  for  a  burro,  depending  on  the  size 

95 


96  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

of  the  pack,  and  correspondingly  longer  for  horse  or 
mule,  boiled  and  wrapped  as  elsewhere  specified.  One 
end  should  be  fastened  to  the  surcingle  by  a  cinch  knot,  al- 
ready described.  The  other  should  be  left  free  for  rop- 
ing. 

After  the  pack  is  properly  built,  the  man  on  the  right 
tosses  the  surcingle  under  the  animal  to  the  man  on  the 
left  and  passes  the  rope  to  him  over  the  center  of  the 
pack.  The  man  on  the  left  now  passes  the  rope  through 
the  ring  in  the  free  end  of  the  surcingle,  braces  his  foot 
against  the  pack,  and  cinches  it  up  practically  to  the  limit. 

Holding  what  he  has  by  friction  through  the  ring,  the 
man  on  the  left,  while  retaining  the  free  end  on  his  side, 
now  carries  a  quantity  of  the  rope  back  to  the  top  of 
the  pack  and  tucks  a  loop  twice  under  the  cinch  rope 
from  back  to  front.  This  will  naturally  make  a  loop 
about  the  width  of  the  hand,  but  enough  rope  should  be 
drawn  through  to  permit  its  being  spread  both  ways  down 
the  cinch  rope  to  a  total  width  of  nine  or  ten  inches, 
even  more  if  it  is  a  large  pack. 

We  now  have  a  double  rope  up  the  left  side  of  the 
pack  and  for  about  ten  inches  on  top.  One  is  the  original 
cinch  rope  that  is  taut  and  extends  entirely  around  the 
animal,  the  other  is  the  flattened  loop  nine  or  ten  inches 
wide  that  holds  its  position  by  friction.  This  looser  por- 
tion of  the  loop  will  make  the  back  half  of  the  diamond, 
and  that  portion  of  the  cinch  rope  between  its  ends  will 
make  the  front  half  when  all  is  finished. 

The  next  step  consists  in  looping  the  rope  around  the 
right  side  of  the  pack  from  front  to  back  and  this  is 
accomplished  by  tucking  a  loop  from  back  to  front 
through  the  space  between  the  two  ropes  on  top  of  the 


> 


X 


THE  DIAMOND  HITCH  97 

pack,  passing  it  around  the  right  side  of  the  pack  from 
front  to  back,  taking  care  that  it  has  a  firm  hold  upon  the 
bottom  of  the  kyaks.  The  loop  is  then  pulled  taut  from 
the  rear,  bracing  the  knee  or  the  foot  against  the  back  of 
the  pack. 

All  this  time  the  man  on  the  left  has  retained  possession 
of  the  free  end  of  the  rope.  Stepping  to  the  back  of  his 
side  of  the  pack,  he  now  tightens  his  rope  by  pulling  back- 
wards and  slightly  downward,  taking  the  slack  from  his 
partner,  thus  forming  the  back  half  of  the  diamond.  He 
now  steps  to  the  front,  passing  his  rope  forward  and 
under  the  pack  from  back  to  front  and  adjusting  it  well 
on  the  under  side  of  his  kyak.  Putting  his  foot  against 
the  front  side  of  the  pack,  he  pulls  it  taut.  He  now  car- 
ries the  free  end  of  the  rope  up  the  front  of  the  pack,  and 
tucks  it  under  the  original  cinch  rope  at  a  point  midway 
between  the  two  sides  of  the  loop,  pulling  forward  and 
downward,  thus  making  the  front  half  of  the  diamond 
on  top  of  the  pack.  Fastening  with  a  simple  loop,  already 
described,  finishes  the  operation. 

Of  course  the  hitch  can  be  so  altered  as  to  finish  at 
the  back  instead  of  the  front,  as  is  often  done,  but  in 
that  case  the  first  loop  on  top  of  the  pack  would  be  tucked 
from  front  to  back  instead  of  from  back  to  front. 

When  properly  done,  the  diamond  hitch  is  a  work  of 
art  in  which  no  actual  knots  are  tied  except  the  one  fasten- 
ing the  rope  to  the  surcingle  at  the  last  moment,  and  the 
whole  can  be  unwound  by  a  single  pull  on  the  free  end. 

I  have  confidence  in  the  adequate  utility  of  this  de- 
scription for  I  have  tried  it  out  on  two  men  who  never 
before  saw  the  diamond  hitch  and  they  made  a  fair  suc- 
cess at  the  first  trial, — perfect,  indeed,  so  far  as  security 


98  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

is  concerned.  I  feel  confident,  therefore,  that  the  tender- 
est  of  tender  feet  need  have  no  fear  but  that  he  can  pack 
his  duffle  without  further  instructions  than  are  contained 
in  this  description. 


XXVI 
THE  SQUARE  HITCH 

The  square  hitch  presumes  a  wide  rather  than  a  high 
and  compact  pack,  and  it  is  slung  low  on  the  saddle  rather 
than  high  as  in  the  case  of  the  diamond  hitch.  In  this 
kind  of  hitch,  there  is  no  attempt  to  lash  the  pack  to  the 
animal,  but  it  is  fastened  to  the  saddle  with  two  loops,  one 
on  either  side,  with  nothing  going  over  the  top. 

To  start  the  square  hitch,  the  pack  rope  should  be 
doubled  to  find  the  middle;  then  at  this  middle  point 
it  is  passed  under  the  front  tree  of  the  saddle  and  with 
a  double  loop  fastened  to  the  cross  tree,  throwing  one 
end  of  the  rope  to  one  side  of  the  pack  animal  and  the 
other  to  the  opposite  side.  The  man  on  either  side  now 
carries  the  free  end  of  his  rope  to  the  rear,  passes  it 
through  the  back  saddle  tree  from  rear  to  front,  brings  it 
under  the  loop  then  formed,  and  drops  it  to  the  ground, 
leaving  the  loop  large  enough  to  go  easily  over  the  pack 
when  built. 

The  pack  is  now  laid  on,  when  each  man  picks  up  his 
loop  and  passes  it  over  the  top  of  the  pack,  from  front  to 
back  and  so  placed  that  the  two  ropes  will  be  not  more 
than  five  or  six  inches  apart  as  seen  from  the  top.  Each 
man  then  pulls  his  loop  taut  from  front  to  rear.  He  then 
drops  to  the  ground,  reaches  up  under  the  pack  to  see 

99 


100  VACATION  ON  THE  TRAIL 

that  the  rope  will  run  free,  and  with  his  foot  against  the 
pack,  pulls  it  taut  and  brings  the  rope  up  the  side  at 
about  the  middle  point.  He  now  passes  it  under  the 
loop  on  top,  and  draws  down  with  about  all  the  strength 
he  can  muster,  tightening  the  original  loop  almost  to  the 
limit  as  it  is  brought  well  down  the  side  of  the  pack. 

It  is  necessary  that  the  partners  on  opposite  sides  of 
the  animal  should  work  together  in  tightening  the  pack, 
else  it  is  likely  to  be  drawn  from  one  side  over  to  the 
other.  If  all  this  is  successfully  done  and  the  ropes  are 
tight  at  their  respective  sides,  a  pack  will  be  lashed  that 
will  remain  in  place  as  long  as  the  saddle  stays  on  the 
animal. 

For  tents  and  bedding  and  ordinary  packing,  the 
diamond  hitch  is  preferable,  but  for  bed-rolls,  boxes, 
barrels,  and  the  like,  the  square  hitch  has  many  ad- 
vantages. 

In  unpacking,  the  loop  on  either  side  will  be  opened 
enough  to  be  swung  off  the  pack,  but  the  free  end  of  the 
rope  will  be  left  under  the  rear  saddle-tree  so  that  when 
the  pack  is  off  both  ropes  may  be  carried  on  the  saddle  by 
winding  back  and  forth  between  the  trees;  but  it  will 
never  be  taken  entirely  off  as  is  done  in  the  diamond  hitch. 

This  description,  also,  has  been  successfully  tested  out 
on  men  who  have  never  seen  the  square  hitch  put  on. 


XXVII 
THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL 

Finally,  when  it  is  all  over,  when  the  last  camp  has 
been  pitched  and  broken,  the  last  camp-fire  kindled,  the 
last  adventure  related,  and  the  last  experience  encountered, 
when  the  last  of  biscuit  and  bacon  and  apricot  has  been 
eaten,  the  last  diamond  hitch  has  been  loosened  and  the 
pack  unstrung  for  aye,  then  only  will  come  a  full  realiza- 
tion of  what  it  all  has  meant  in  the  way  of  real  relaxation 
from  labor  and  freedom  from  care.  There  has  been  just 
enough  hard  work  to  insure  an  appetite  and  sweet  sleep, 
and  just  enough  of  everything  to  have  re-created  the 
tramper  physically,  mentally,  and  spiritually  without 
emptying  the  pockets;  and  in  addition,  a  new  revelation 
of  the  majesty  of  the  mountains  has  come  like  a  bene- 
diction on  his  soul. 

And  he  will  live  it  all  again,  over  and  over,  weeks  and 
months  and  years  afterward.  He  will  pack  the  burros 
in  his  dreams ;  and  when  he  cannot  sleep  from  weariness, 
he  will  retrace  the  trails  and  in  memory  he  will  stand  again 
at  the  pass  and  lie  down  under  the  stars  as  of  yore.  So 
will  the  spirit  of  the  mountains  and  of  the  camp-fire  creep 
over  him  in  his  weary  sleepless  hours  like  a  mother's 
lullaby,  and  even  in  retrospect  will  he  find  rest. 

So  shall  the  tramper  discover  his  Eldorado,  and  so  shall 
he  learn  that  his  investment  in  the  mountains  and  the 
trails  is  forever  and  a  day. 

101 


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